Poisonous Fear
by duffshel
Summary: Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity. Now Complete!
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Well, here we are again! First off I apologize for the wait, but I hope it will all be worth it as we take this journey. Stick it out with me. This is going to have a lot of case work, a lot of science, a lot of build up. Just keep reading and I hope it will all come together nicely for you. I am not going to attempt to set a posting schedule, but it will not be too long between. And as always, thanks for reading. Let me know what you think as we go along! Until next time!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**Prologue**

There are many things in the world that can cause one's flesh to crawl and their hair to stand on end. Sometimes it takes almost nothing at all and for others, the fright is harder to achieve. In the busy world of the 21st centaury, one would think there would be little to shock and surprise anymore. But that would be untrue. People continue to fear things, big or small.

Around the world, there are people that fear the so-called big things. Ghosts, apparitions, and demons that fill heads of people young and old in every continent. There are reports from all regions of strange things happening late at night when people are supposed to be sleeping. Strange tales of a young woman walking from a large monument of a cross and drowning herself in the nearby water body to children running through hallways of old hospitals send people in droves to different places to be a witness to the phenomenon. It seems to be a passage of rights to see something not of the normal, ordinary world.

Fears, like anything, have smaller versions. Things that happen in everyday life that sends people into fits of panic. Since these are nothing as grand as a young girl getting possessed by the Devil and causing things to happen around her, people just pass these off as nothing, but irrational. Women jump on chairs when a small, gray shape runs past. Men shiver when a long body with many legs crosses a wall. Children squeal when large beasts approach too quickly.

And like many odd things in the world, people are attracted to it. It draws people to scare themselves, to scream, to cry. Holidays are made for children to run around dressed like demons and angels. It is undeniable for many. Fear draws out something in every human being. Many even feel a connection to others over such a thing. Scare another and be worthy.

No one is immune to fear. It comes in many shapes and forms. To another, it may seem silly and stupid. But to the person experiencing that rush of blood, goose bumps from head to toe, and prickly hair on end, it makes all the sense. It erases all logic and reasoning from even the brightest. It brings out the trembling child in the biggest and strongest. A gun will not protect you. A friend will only fall with you. What is it that can make your heart stop?

!#$&)(-!#$)(&-!#$&()-

A whimper was all she could get past the cloth gag in her mouth. The room was dark, but the shadows of the people moving around were very clear. Whatever it was that they had shot into her arm was making her body very heavy and hard to move. She hadn't been tied to the chair, but she couldn't force herself to move even her little toe. Every muscle seemed to have a mind of its own. None would obey the large brain in her head anymore.

Several dark figures seemed to almost dance around her as her eyes fought to focus straight. A hand ghosted across the warm flesh of her cheek. Breath misted around the back of her neck. Something wet and cold was soaking into her clothes. Whispers rang in her ears around the laughter.

The young boy that had been hauled into the house lay on his side, his back only visible. He was shaking, but it was hard to tell if it was from simply tears or overall fear. She didn't know what his purpose was here. She didn't know who he was. Several more shapes were standing around him, one bent low. Her eyes couldn't make out much of any of it.

Suddenly her hair was soaked with whatever it was that weighed down her clothes. The smell hit her nose immediately. The panic that coursed through her body did nothing to make it move. She knew that smell. She knew the sound of a match hitting the book. Her eyes managed the ability to widen once the flame was waved in front of her face.

The boy's screams were nothing over the sound of the flames. She couldn't scream. That was lost to her. Only her nose and eyes seemed to be alive as her skin was turned black and dead. The boy was removed. His fate would not be hers. She almost wished for those threatening teeth as the fire licked its way up to her face.

TBC…the curtain drops…


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Notes: **Hello. I must say, the response to the shortest chapter I have ever written was impressive. Thanks for all the warm welcome back's. It is nice to be back. Thanks for the awesome words on my quick little introduction. Means a lot to me. Sorry to make this so quick and what not, but I have to get to work. Busy time of year and late nights are to be expected! See you all next time! Adios!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#1**

The heat filled the area surrounding the building. The orange flames licked away at the wood and siding of the brand new townhouse. It was a rich area. Houses like these weren't supposed to just go up in flames like this.

Nicholas Stokes stood back and watched with wide-eyes as the fire department battled the intense fire. He had only witnessed a few fires in his career and this had to be the biggest. The entire damn house was lit up.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind kept wondering what the hell he was doing there anyways. This was something for the fire department to worry about. And, with patience he didn't really understand that he had, Nick explained back to the voice that no one had left the house according to the neighbors and the car of one of the owners was still parked in the driveway. The automobile had already been put out. No need for an explosion as well.

Jim Brass was standing about four feet away, mouth attached to his phone as he barked orders. He had been the one to call Nick to the scene. The others on the team were all already on other cases and seeing as it was Nick's first day back from his mini-vacation, he was free. The detective kept a close eye on the criminalist as to make sure he didn't do anything _brave_.

There were several people standing around the barricade that the department had put up around the red trucks and water hoses. Nothing like a little carnage early in the morning to drag the people to be witness. Flashes from digital cameras and phones added white light to the reds and blues. A group of people had also gathered around Officer Andrew Kehls and his squad car. They all looked distressed and scared. These were the neighbors that Andrew was trying to keep calm and get information from.

Several shouts from firefighters were filtered through Nick's brain, but nothing stuck. The inner child under all the muscle and age was almost jumping around in excitement at the blaze. His adult side scorned this attraction, but did nothing to stop it. The fire was holding his full attention. Destruction was always something that pulled at the human mind.

Brass finally managed to get off his phone and walked over to stand next to Nick. He couldn't help, but to grin at the expression on the kid's face. There was morbid fascination, yet disgust was written clearly in those chocolate eyes. But the cop couldn't deny that it wasn't interesting to him as well. It wasn't often you saw an entire house encased within red and orange.

"Do you want me to call someone else in to help us out with this?"

The strong, rough voice broke into Nick's head and he managed to turn his eyes from the fire, "I don't know. I talked to Warrick yesterday and it seemed they were all in the wrap-up stages of that stabbing case. Let them finish it up without distraction. I think you and I can handle this for awhile alone."

"Alright. Once we are allowed in the building, you stick close to me."

Nick turned fully to Brass with a smile on his face, "Well, gosh Jim. I didn't realize I was so treasured to you."

"Oh please. I just don't want you to run into any walls or anything."

The two stared at each other for a moment before they began to laugh. People were looking at them strangely and Nick knew they shouldn't be laughing, but he couldn't help it. The tension was so thick you could cut through it with a chain saw.

The fire chief came walking up to the smiling men and shook his head. He had been in his position for many years and knew both men on different levels. This really didn't surprise him all that much.

"You two are going to piss people off if you keep laughing like fools," Chief Jerry Hopkins stated with the sides of his mouth twitching.

"Blame it on the kid here."

Nick wisely turned away from the two older men and didn't respond. Another crew of firemen had finally arrived and he watched as the scrambled about to get more water on the fire. The added blast helped to hold down the fire on the north side. Siding flew from the house like flakes of skin.

"How much longer do you think before it is out?"

Jerry took in everything around him briefly before he answered Nick's question, "It all depends on the structure of the house. If it falls, could take a little longer. But they are managing it well."

The three men stood together as they watched the battle between the flames and water. The heat was still intense. Sweat was running down Nick's spine, but he didn't move. His eyes once again focus on the carnage in front of him. This was going to be a long night of going through all the damage.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Warrick Brown was tired. He had just gotten back to the lab from the police station. The case had finally gotten wrapped up once they got the confession out of the boy's cousin earlier during the evening. It seems the kid was sick of all the attention his ten year old cousin was getting from the family and decided it would be best to stab his six times on top of his Spiderman bed sheets. Grissom and Catherine were working on the paper work yet, but had sent Warrick back with Greg. They were driving all the cops insane with their impatient pacing.

There was still four hours left on their shifts so they went straight to the break room to get a caffeine kick for the rest of the night. Greg Sanders had practically ran to the coffee machine and prepped it. Looking over his shoulder and seeing only Warrick walking into the room, the young criminalist bent and reached into the back of the cabinet under the sink. He took back up with a smirk, his coffee in his hand.

"So ya gonna share with me, man?"

Greg shrugged, "I suppose I could. You _were_ extra nice to me on the case after all. It is the least that I can do for you."

"So kind of you."

Warrick sighed as he let his body drop onto the couch and rested his head on the plush back. His head was sore, but it wasn't anything a few aspirins wouldn't be able to fix. The smell of the expensive coffee began to fill the room and he let his mind relax along with his body. Greg had begun to hum to himself as he went about the room.

The lab was quiet outside the doorway. Las Vegas had been slow. The murderers and crazy people seemed to have taken a break. Within the past week, the graveyard shift only had four major cases. Even the day shift had been slow enough to do all their work on their own. Warrick wasn't complaining though. They had been two criminalists short.

Nick had taken five days off to get some stuff done around his place. He wanted to paint and clean the carpeting and couldn't seem to find time otherwise. Though he took a day off to hand out with his best friend and allow Warrick to kill him at hoops. And then after a day that Nick had been gone, Sara received a call from a friend back in California. The girl's father had taken ill and Grissom told her to fly back to San Francisco to visit with the family and her old friend. She had accepted the advice and flew out a few hours later.

The coffee was finally done and Greg gave a large cupful to Warrick. Both took large sips as they sat and tried to collect. Warrick had been glad the case with the kid had occurred when Nick was off. Cases like those affected all of them, but no where close to how they did to the Texan. He was sure it had to do with something that happened to the other man when he was younger, but Nick never talked about anything with his childhood.

Greg had just gotten up from his place next to Warrick when Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows walked into the room. The team co-leaders looked tired, but ready for whatever was to happen next. Grissom placed his phone on the wooden table as he pulled out a chair to take a seat. Catherine immediately stole Greg's coffee.

"Well, that's done. Now all we have to do is wait for the call for our next case."

Warrick just nodded and stared down into the black brew. No one said a word, but the silence was not uncomfortable. Greg shifted a few times as he watched the older CSI's in the room with him. They were one odd family unit that was for sure. He was about to say something when Grissom's phone went off.

"Grissom."

The other three watched the leading CSI closely as he listened to the caller. His face betrayed no emotion and he didn't say a word. Catherine wanted to hit him for always being so calm and collected. Finally the man said his good bye and hung up the phone.

"It seems we are going to be having two more cases tonight. That was Vega. Apparently there is a fire across town that Jim and Nick are already at."

Warrick looked up at his boss, "Nick's back already? I thought he started next shift?"

"It appears that Jim knew we were all busy and got a hold of him for it. I want Warrick and Greg to go and help him out. Catherine, you are going to come with me. There is an apparent animal attack over at Freedom Park."

This caused Greg's ears to perk up, "The skateboard place?"

"That would be it. Catherine and I will figure it out when we get there."

Warrick shook his head and he stood up. His back cracked almost painfully, but he used the jolt to ready himself. A fire was always a lot of work. One could hope Nick and Brass would have things set and ready to go by the time Warrick and Greg got there.

"So where's this fire?"

"Over in Henderson, Seven Hills. Your best bet is to get on 515 from this direction. I don't have the exact address, but it sounded like Vega said Saratoga Circle."

"All we will have to do once we get there is find all the big, red trucks," Greg chirped in.

Grissom and Catherine both looked at the young CSI with a confused look. Both had forgotten how rookies could act. Neither said a word as they left the room with shakes of their heads.

"Was it something I said?"

"Always man. Come on, let's go check on Nick and see what is up with that fire."

Energy surged through Greg's body and he was hot on Warrick's heels as they left the break room. He was practically bouncing as they stopped to grab some more gear from a store room. Once they broke out into the night air, Greg felt like singing.

TBC…hit the lights…


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hello, hello! Here we are once again. Thank you all for joining me again for this chapter. More of the team, more Nick, and oh yeah…dead bodies! I really don't have anything clever to say so I will just shut up and get out of the way. Enjoy and have fun as always. See you all next post!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#2**

Catherine took a deep breath and readjusted the beam of light from her small flashlight. The young male on the cement was a sight to see. It had taken a few minutes to even figure out it was a male they were dealing with. Whatever had attacked this kid had done a real number. Bile kept rising into the back of Catherine's throat.

The latex gloves felt warm on her hands as she reached down to the mess. The body was almost to the point she didn't think it could be called a body any longer. Both arms were barely attached at the shoulders any longer and the right leg was turned completely around in its socket. Skin, muscle, and bone were missing in numerous places. This poor guy had been a meal ticket for something.

David Phillips crouched at the other side of the victim and was busy getting his readings. His hand was flying over the notebook paper as he took notes on what he was seeing. This was something he had never seen. Mauling happened, but never to this extent around here in the past few years. The body temperature was warm. This happened about an hour ago.

"What else do you need with him here, Catherine?"

The blonde woman looked up into the field coroner's eyes, "If you are ready to move him, give me just a sec. I have the pictures I need here, but I need a few swabs samples from the…bite marks..."

The young man nodded and stood up. He quickly gathered his gear and headed over to the ambulance that was waiting for transport. The black bag felt heavy in his hand as he pulled it out. He blanked out his mind as he headed back over to the body. Two medics followed and the three of them managed to get everything into the bag once Catherine gave them the go.

Catherine didn't bother watching anything occurring with Dave and his team. Her eyes were raking slowly over the ground underneath the body. Blood stains and pools were everywhere. The edges were not solid and there was no pattern to how it seemed to spread. Catherine had to guess the blood just poured from everywhere. It was heavy in too many places.

Her body started at the hand that lay softly down on her shoulder. Grissom stayed still as Catherine collected herself. Only his eyes remained active as he took in the mess on the cement in front of the two.

"Any thoughts?"

"Not yet. There is a lot of blood here. I was going to swab it to make sure it was all from our victim. I haven't checked the parameter yet. David just left with the body,"

"Alright. You finish up with the swabs here and I am going to check around this ramp and see if I can find anything."

Catherine nodded as she watched Grissom walk away. Her kit was close and she only had to reach over with her right hand to grab the packet of swabs and their plastic covers. There was little wind or disturbance to the blood pool due to the location. The body was found next to the pyramid ramp covered in spray paint. A group of young Mexican children were the ones unfortunate enough to come across this mess. Vega told her that he had called their parents and took them down to the station already.

The swabs soaked up the blood. Catherine worked in a tight circle as she took her samples. She would move out from the main spot to the splatters. It was a lot of blood.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The lights of the park were off. Grissom asked a police officer he passed to bring him some flood lights. He couldn't seem much with the beam his flashlight was offering. The young officer ran over quickly and set up one on the cement next to where the CSI was standing.

The gray was lit up, "Hey, before you run off, could you see if the lights could be taken off their timer and turned on?"

Grissom's question to the officer stopped the man in his steps. He was new to the force and didn't know what to do. Taking the easy route, the officer nodded and ran off to find Vega.

The CSI immediately began searching the ground for anything. There had to be something. A blood splatter, a footprint, a tire mark. Something had to show how the man was placed in the middle of that park for the kids to find when they came to skate.

The skating park wasn't very large. It was approximately 8,100 sq. ft. which was decent size, but Grissom had heard of larger ones. And when encased in the seventy acre park with the baseball field, it was just a small feature. The park itself had no open land due to dust problems in the area so there wasn't much dirt to rely on for treads.

Just as Grissom was about to move the flood light he was working with, the lights over head came on. The entire area was lit up with the fake white wash of high watt bulbs. It took Grissom a second to adjust his eyes to the new situation before he began his search again. There was nothing in this region of the park.

Slow footsteps lead the CSI to the parking lot side of the skate park. There were a few cars that weren't squad in the lot, but nothing that screamed for attention. But there were some odd tire marks that did catch Grissom's attention.

Large tread were leaving the skating park in what looked like two directions. Grissom knelt down next to the black designs. They led in once and out once. Following them into the skating arena, they led right up to where Catherine was bent over a large red pool.

Grissom walked over to Catherine and didn't say a word as he grabbed her camera and a few markers. Carefully he placed them along the treads and took pictures as he walked. It didn't look like the vehicle turned around anywhere. Whoever had been driving simply reversed and backed out once the body was out. The speed hadn't been that great. The treads were pretty clear with little smudging.

Detective Sam Vega took that opportunity to find the CSI and walk up to him, "Hey Grissom. How are things going?"

'Well, I just found these tire marks leading to where our victim was placed. Do you know if there are any cameras over this area?"

"Nah, they just redid the pavement and added a lot more lights during the renovations. This is a heavy Hispanic part of town. Cameras were out of budget."

Grissom nodded at the information, "Could you spare an officer to see if this trail can be followed further than this? I doubt it, but it is worth a try."

"Sure. I can get two over here for you. We aren't really having problems keeping people away being this late a night. And the kids that found the body, I have had them taken to the station. Their parents have been called. I will head there soon to question them."

"Yeah, I would love to know what they are doing here at this time of night."

Vega nodded his head and turned to walk away. Grissom waited until two officers ran over to give his instructions before he walked back over to Catherine. She had just finished up with her samples and was packing her kit back up. She turned to Gil when she heard his approach.

"So what do you want to have done now?"

"Well, I think I found where the vehicle came in. Vega has some officers following the trail, but I don't think we are going to get anywhere with it. We should leave the area taped and watched while we head back to the lab."

Catherine nodded and picked up her bag. The two CSI's walked in silence back over the truck. And the silence tagged along during the ride. The blonde woman couldn't help, but wonder what had happened to lead that boy to that park in that situation. Something happened and she could only hope they could figure out what it was.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg almost couldn't keep his disappointment to himself when they arrived on the scene. There had been a car accident on the freeway and it had stalled them for almost forty minutes. The fire was completely out when they finally pulled in. Only smoke still left from the destroyed roof.

The young CSI dragged himself from the truck and opened the back door to grab his stuff. He could almost feel the grin that Warrick was giving him. During the jam, Greg had mentioned he had never seen a house on fire before and he was excited to see something new. But he had missed out, again.

Both men walked from the truck and past the yellow tape with a flash of their badges. Warrick's green eyes darted around as he tried to locate his friend. All he saw was the happy-go-lucky face of one Jim Brass. He resisted the eye roll as he pulled Greg over to the detective.

"Hey Jim. What happened here?"

The solid, dark haired man turned to face the new arrivals with a raised eyebrow, "I though that was your job, Warrick?"

"Doesn't mean you can't help out every once 'n awhile. Where's Nick at?"

"Oh, he decided to go off with the fire chief and get a full tour of the place."

Warrick chuckled and shook his head. Poor Greg just looked confused. He couldn't figure out was so odd about Nick wanting to get in and check things out. And who better to take him in than the fire chief himself.

"What's wrong with that?"

The two older men looked at him, but neither said a word. Warrick just grinned at him again and Brass gave another eyebrow raise. "Whatever guys."

"So, you two ready to get in there? I am told it is clear for entry though those fire guys are still working out which rooms are safe to process."

"Just take us in Brass."

The detective turned towards the house and set a fast pace to the front door. Warrick had no trouble keeping up, but Greg felt like he was jogging. The smell of burnt wood and carpeting was strong and the night wind had no problem in moving it around. Greg wanted to hide his nose in his shirt, but didn't want to look like a wimp to the other two men.

Brass stepped in the charred doorway and stood to the side as the two CSI's walked in, flashlights in their hands. There was nothing, but black and ash. Warrick could hear voices towards the back of the house, but he couldn't help standing there shocked for a few seconds. Fire was not something he would ever want to mess with.

"It was a hot one. I am surprised they got it out at all," Brass commented as he took a look at the inside for the first time.

The fire chief saved the three men from having to go looking for him. He burst through what must have been a kitchen at one point with a frown that put Brass to shame, even on his best day. No one had to prompt him for any information about his foul mood.

"We found the body. Your guy's in there. See if you can convince him to wait until we make sure this damn thing is safe before he starts going nuts."

Warrick couldn't help it. A smile broke across his face showing his white teeth, "That would be Nicky. I'll go see what I can do."

The tall CSI walked past the fire chief and soon found himself looking into a large kitchen. Nick was standing with his back to the entrance. It was clear to make out the tension built up in those shoulders. Warrick made his way to the other man's side, but was stopped in his tracks when he saw what held Nick's attention and light beam.

A charred body was slumped over on what was left of a table chair. What little skin was left clung to the brown bones. Nothing was left that Warrick could see of the clothes or shoes.

"Damn!"

Nick jumped slightly and whipped around to face the disturbance, "Shit 'Rick. Make some damn noise next time, will ya? And get that damn light out of my face!"

"Sorry, man. Didn't realize you were going deaf on me."

"Just shut up. When did you get here?"

Warrick took another step closer to the victim, "A few minutes ago. I cannot believe someone would just sit in a chair and wait for the fire to hit them."

Nick didn't answer his friend. There was something wrong with all of this. The body looked as if it never moved during the fire. He looked around and couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine. From the pattern of the fire, it started right there with the body.

"I'll take this room. Why don't you see if you can find anything outside."

"Sure, I'll have Greg help me with the yard. It looks to be a big one. What about the upstairs?"

"Have to wait until the chief gives the okay on it," Nick finally looked over at Warrick.

Warrick nodded and with a pat on a muscled shoulder, he left the room. The only person left in the front room that he knew was Greg. He nodded his head at the younger CSI as he walked past. Greg didn't hesitate. He followed Warrick out of the house.

"Nick's going to take the inside of the kitchen, you and I are going to scope it out here. Find anything, photo and bag it."

Once Greg nodded and headed to the left side of the house, Warrick turned and took the right. There was a lot of yard to this damn house. It was green and rich. Lots of money to buy those looks in Vegas. Yards like these were what were draining the Nation's rivers and lakes. People didn't seem to realize what a green lawn in the desert cost to the planet.

The front part of the yard was totally ruined. Whatever might have been there was trashed by the tracks of firefighters, hoses, and water blasts. Even though Warrick hadn't been at the house for the fire, the evidence of the battle was clear. It had been a big one.

But once he walked around to the back and the large patio, things began to show up. Warrick completely ignored the spacious pool and focused on the dirt smudges that covered the pale cement that surrounded it. The moonlight was enough to make out that there was a path and many people had moved back and forth in that area.

His flashlight lit up the mud and there were skid marks. Someone had slipped when walking from the house. Probably running too quickly from the fire. Warrick grabbed the camera around his neck and began snapping pictures. Once he was satisfied, he followed the rough path towards the grass and dirt. There was nothing behind the house, but more yard and a large wooden fence. With a sweep of his beam, Warrick saw the fence was intact.

"Hey Warrick!"

Greg walked briskly towards the other man. He was excited.

"What's up man?"

"They drove out on that side. The trail leads to back here."

Warrick nodded and swept wider. Sure enough, there were depressions from a large vehicle. They were deep and heavy in the grass. There was a lot of weight to something to do that. And from the width of the impressions, the vehicle had to be fairly large, one of those SUV's that could pass for a bus possibly.

"It fits with these foot tracks I found by the pool. They lead from the grass to the back of the house. Must have parked back here and broke in."

Greg listened with a slight frown on his face, "But wouldn't the owner know someone was here if they drove around the entire house? I mean, the headlights would flash through several windows."

The taller CSI didn't bother answering. He had no clue what to say to that one. He had no idea. But soon things should begin to fall into place. Both men began processing the tracks without a word to the other. Water was still running from areas of the cooling house. Something could be lost that shouldn't be.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The kitchen, what was left of it, was nothing more than darkened steel and tile. Everything about it screamed sanitary and clean before it went up in the hot flames. Nick walked the room slowly and studied all the burn patterns. Something pushed the fire up and out. It started in this room/

The linoleum on the floor was peeling and bending upward. Nick had to watch his steps to make sure he didn't get caught on anything and land flat on his face. His kit was still outside in his truck. He had been so eager to get in the house with the chief, he had forgotten it. Not that he would tell Grissom that. But he did still have a pair of latex gloves in his back pocket. It was sad when a grown man carried a pair in every pair of pants he owned.

Paint was completely melted off in some areas. The fire worked its way upward along the walls, not downward. And there was a smell in the air that was familiar, but the name didn't just jump into his head. Whatever it was reminded him of the cookouts that his family had when he was younger and still in Texas. But Nick wasn't about to jump anywhere with lighter fluid and the works. He could be patient enough to have Hodges tell him what was used to start the fire.

Finally, Nick knew he couldn't avoid the body any longer. With purpose and a downward stare, he left the kitchen and house on the way back out to his truck. His kit bag was sitting in the front seat next to his camera. Both were grabbed and he returned before anyone could say a word to him.

The body was still slumped forward. With a large breath, Nick knelt down in front of it and forced himself to look into the face. The lips and nose were gone. Once white teeth were yellow and brown. The eyes, black sludge dripping down charred cheeks. There were still a few strands of hair on the head. Clothes were gone or melted into bone and brown muscle.

Nick took several pictures and pulled a few hair strands to place in the small plastic baggie he held with his other hand. The hair might have been blonde, but Nick couldn't tell right then and there. Carefully, he reached up with his free hand and grabbed at the jaw. The body fell forward.

"Fuck!"

The Texan jumped to his feet and the body crashed to the floor. The left arm broke off. Nick had to fight the urge to run outside and relive his lunch all over the grass. Deep breaths could be heard in the room. They were enough to cover the sound of footsteps.

"Nick?"

"Hey Super Dave. In here, the back," the reply was thick and weak.

The coroner walked into the room, out of breath, "Sorry it took so long to get here. I just finished up with Catherine before I headed here."

"No problem man. I was just getting down and dirty here…Um…that isn't the original position. Might want to make a record of it. The body was in the chair, but when I went to move the head for a better photo of the face, it fell…the arm fell off!"

David nodded and walked over, unfazed, to stand above the now grounded body. He took it all in and shook his head. There would be no need to take a temperature or call a C.O.D. It was all clear on what caused the death and when the fire took place. If the body was dead prior to the fire, a decent temperature would be impossible to get anyways.

"She suffered before she died."

Nick looked up sharply, "She?"

"Yeah, look at the lower body. It is broad in the hip area. Though I could be wrong. The body is burnt pretty badly."

Both men worked on getting the victim on its back and David stood. This time he had carried the black bag in with him. He got out his cell phone and called in the gurney. Nick helped him get everything in the bag and once again fought the bile when he picked up the stray arm. David nodded to him as they wheeled the body out.

Nick stood up and looked around the room once again. There was a lot to process here, but he hadn't heard anything from the chief about the rest of the house being open. Nothing was jumping out for a cause to all of this. He heard voices out back so he headed to the yellow sliding doors.

Warrick and Greg were both bent over something on the patio. Curiosity got the better of Nick and he walked over to them. "What do you guys got?"

"We found several footprints. There were a lot of people here tonight. And over there," Warrick moved his beam of light to the side of the house, "Is where they drove through."

Nick walked closer, "What happened here?"

Both of the other men looked up and saw where Nick was starring. There was a large mud stain that was wider than the others. Warrick bent down by it and frowned. He looked up Nick when the Texan spoke again.

"Someone was dragged. Away from the house."

TBC…smores anyone? J


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Seems to me that people like smores! Not me though, too sweet. Well, in honor of my baby brother's 21st birthday today, I got the urge to give you all a new chapter after only two days. And I watched my first CSI Miami last night! Man, did I miss the Vegas guys. Can't have a CSI without Nick, Warrick, Greg,or Grissom. Just not right! Don't get me wrong, it was okay, just…missing the guys! Ah well. Thanks again for reading and letting me know what you think. Enjoy this new chapter with the ever under appreciated (by the show's producers!) lab help. See ya all….oh I dunno….Friday maybe. Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#3**

A young boy lay still on the steel table. Several lights blasted down upon him. The pale skin was lit up blue on the television screen hanging from the ceiling. All remaining cloths had been removed and bagged. The body was rearranged so it was back the way it should be.

The charred woman was composed on the other table in the room. Her black, melted face covered the entire screen above her table. The left arm was lying on the side of the body where it should have been attached. Nothing had been bagged from this victim. Clothes were mixed too thickly in with the ash and flesh.

Doc Albert Robbins stood between the two and starred blankly down at the floor in front of him. Like everyone else, he had seen some things in his days, but this was something new. Taking a deep breath, he moved back over to the burn victim. He had managed to get a needle through the tough hide of the chest and was able to pull out a vial of blood from the now still heart. There was nothing left on the hands for finger prints. He was going to work on getting dental impressions now. Somehow they were going to have to identify this woman.

The doctor was hard at work with the paste when Nick and Warrick walked into the room. They both were wearing the blue protective gowns and latex gloves. These two cases were sensitive and they couldn't afford any mess ups with any step.

Nick walked over to the young boy. He hadn't heard much about Grissom's and Catherine's case. It was scary and fascinating to see. He had never seen anyone damaged as much as that. From the size and stature of the body, it was a young kid, no more than fourteen, fifteen years old.

"Anything Doc?" Warrick asked when he noticed Nick's attention was not of the older man in the room, but the boy on the table.

"I am trying to get something for you to use off dental records. There is nothing for identification on the body and I have no way of removing the clothes. I managed to get some blood out and I have sent it to Mia for processing along with the boy. But from what I have started, I can tell you she was probably what started the fire. We have an approximately thirty-five year old woman who was covered in some sort of fluid, from the smell; I would say a lighter fluid."

"Okay, what's up on the boy?"

Doc Robbins raised an eyebrow, "I thought that wasn't your case?"

"Just curious," Nick didn't look up.

Warrick exchanged a look with Robbins and walked up to stand next to his partner. The boy was a mess and it would mess with anyone's head. Warrick wanted to get Nick away from his as soon as possible. Kids, no matter the age, always stuck in Nick's head for weeks after the case. As little contact he could manage would be the best.

"Come on, bro. Let's go check up with Mia and see if she has anything. If not, we can harass her until she does something."

Nick didn't resist as Warrick took his arm and pulled him from the examination room. The Texan's footsteps were heavy, but he was able to keep up with the taller man with little problem. The path through the lab was clear. Mia was alone in her DNA lab.

The attractive, black woman was bent over a microscope and was tapping her foot to a beat only she could hear on the floor. She heard the men enter the room, but didn't bother to look up at them.

"So Mia, what do you have on our vic?"

"Nothing yet. I just got the blood samples from Robbins five minutes ago. You are going to have to give me some time. Catherine demanded to go first and I am not about to argue with her. Go check with Hodges first. I am sure he has something done."

"What does he have?"

"Robbins sent him a sample of the clothes/skin from the girl to figure out what was used to start the fire."

Neither said anymore, but nodded. Hodges lab was kiddy corner to Mia's so it didn't take much to get to it. Neither man just didn't want to deal with the other man. He was unusual at best. The three all had conflicts of some sort.

David Hodges didn't bother looking up as the two CSI's walked into his lab. He wore his usual bored smirk as he continued his work. There were not a lot of cases at that time so he had been helping out the day shift with some of their overload and late work. But he had gotten his stuff for the graveyard done first.

"Hey Hodges, we were wondering if…"

"If I was able to take a look at the sample that Robbins sent to me. Yes I have."

Warrick looked expectantly at the shorter man. He had never been terribly fond of the tech, but had to admit the guy did do good work. Greg had been something has a DNA tech., but Hodges was something completely different than even that with trace. Warrick felt his impatience rise as the man ignored both him and Nick.

"And?"

"Oh. Yeah. Well, it seems that the body _was_ doused in a lighter fluid. According to the database, it is Kingsford charcoal lighter fluid. It is manufactured by the Clorox Company. It can be purchased in boxes of twelve, but I would say two or three would have been enough to light a body on fire. Your vic is lucky they just didn't let her suffocate from it or poison her with it. The hydrocarbons that make up that stuff would knock a wrestler off his feet in no time."

"Well, that gives more proof that the fire started with our D.B.," Nick said quietly as he took in the new information, "Anything else?"

"No, that was all I had been asked to with it. If there is more, you will have to tell me, but it will take me some time do get to it."

The brown haired man went back to his sample and efficiently ended the conversation. Warrick said nothing as he turned and stomped out of the room. It helped, but it wasn't a case breaker. Someone had set a woman on fire. They needed to know who she was.

Greg ran up to Warrick once he saw him leaving the lab room. His eyes were bright and his step was light. A piece of paper waved in his hand.

"I got the papers on the house. It belonged to one Ralph White and his wife, Sherie. My bet, the victim is the wife."

"Do we know where Mr. White is?" Nick questioned once he was at Warrick's side.

"No, but I can call Brass and see if he can find him."

Warrick and Nick nodded at the same time. There was no answer from Greg other than the sound of his shoes on the tile as he ran off to find his phone. Now that was a case breaker. The husband would certainly be a suspect in all of this even if the woman turned out to not be his wife. They now had someone to try to match the DNA to.

"I'll see if I can get any medical records for Mrs. White so that Mia will have something to compare to as she does her thing."

"Alright Nicky. I'll see if I can dig up anything on the couple to see if there is any motive that would lead to the death of his wife. Leave your phone on. Mia should call us as soon as she has something."

The men nodded and banged together a closed fist. Finally there was something to run with and both were excited to follow the lead. They both just hoped they were heading in the right direction with the body.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine stood stiffly next to the table holding the boy. She was waiting for the good Doc to give her the rundown on the victim. Grissom had already come in and collected the remains of clothing. He had left the autopsy work to her on this one. She had a feeling he really didn't know what to do with this body and the cruel death.

The older doctor made his way slowly over to her side. He had been working a little more on the burnt woman on the other table. Catherine couldn't look at that one for long. As bad as it sounded, she was glad she had the mauling as her case. Let the boys deal with the ashes.

"Hello Catherine. I hope you are doing well."

"As well as I can under the circumstances. So what can you tell me about our D.B. here?"

"Well, C.O.D. is obvious with the bite marks and the large loss of blood. The body drained itself through all the wounds. My guess," Robbins pointed to the upper left torso, "Is that is the bite that finished the poor boy off. Several bones are broken and a great deal of skin and muscle is missing from the body. Whatever attacked him, took pieces with it."

"Do you have any ideas on what bite him?"

"From the size and shape of the bite marks on his upper arms and legs, I would have to say canine. I really don't know what type, but something large with a narrower jaw. And from the damage, I would say there was probably more than one."

"Is it possible to get a cast of any of the teeth marks?"

"Already done, drying as we speak," the cane clanked on the ground as the doctor turned and walked towards a shelving unit to his left, "I also found this."

Catherine held out her hand when the small plastic bag was held out to her. Doc Robbins dropped it into the waiting limb. She pulled it closer to her face and shifted the plastic around in her hand to see the object inside clearly. It was small and pointed. It was a tooth.

"Where was this?"

"I found it lodged in the right femur, just above the knee. I took a few photos of it for your records before I removed it. It should help lead you to a species as well as any casts I can get."

"Thanks. Anything else?"

"I didn't find any identification on the body, but Grissom took the clothes and a few hair samples. I also sent a blood sample to the lab for processing. Something might come up with it."

Catherine smiled at the coroner before she left. She ignored the burnt body completely, almost running past it to get out. Her direction was to find Grissom and see what he had. If they could get a hit on CODIS or missing persons, they would have a name. Then they could find out the motive to why the boy had been killed.

The tooth felt heavy in her hand. She wanted to get to work on that as soon as possible. If it was canine, she wanted to know the size and breed. Dogs were never her favorite pet option and she didn't relish the idea of having to hunt down a couple of killer ones.

Grissom was bent over a table, a piece of evidence tape in his hand. He was pressing down on the clothes spread out in front of him looking for anything that shouldn't be on them. Already several hairs lifted from the pants. From initial looks, they were not human. It wasn't too surprising.

He heard Catherine walk into the room, "So?"

"Robbins found a tooth in his leg. Nothing as to who he is though."

"Yeah, I double checked the clothes and didn't find anything. I checked in with Mia and she was getting to work on the blood she got. She will page me once she gets something."

"Do you need help with anything?"

"Not here. Maybe you should start with that tooth and see if you can find our weapon."

"Right on it," Catherine turned to the computer that was on the other side of the room. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and opened the baggie. The tooth fell out onto the steel. Reaching into a drawer she pulled open, Catherine grabbed a ruler. Quickly she took down a few measurements. The computer accepted the length, width, and depth with no problems.

It took a couple of seconds and a list popped up on the screen. There were four breeds of dogs that could have teeth the size of the one sitting in front of her. They were all large dogs. Doberman Pincher, German Shepard, Dalmatian, and Husky were on the list. Only one stuck out at Catherine. The Pincher was said to possibly have a bad side that a person could use to train it into a very bad dog.

"Hey Grissom, I have four dogs here that could be the tool."

The lead CSI looked up from the remains of a tennis shoe, "Well, the hairs I lifted were dark. Some where brown, other black."

"Well, that would remove Spot. The Husky would be unlikely as well unless it had dark fur. I would say we should look into the Pincher and the Shepard."

Catherine quickly hit a few more keys and entered the animal registry for Las Vegas. It was several long minutes before another list popped up. This was a list of all the registered dogs in the area and there owners. It seemed that people liked those two breeds immensely.

"I have twelve hits on the Pinchers and thirty-two for the Shepard. But only twenty have multiple dogs of either. Robbins said it had to be more than one by the looks of the teeth marks in the bones."

"We should call Vega and have him start the footwork on this one. We need each of these owners checked out. Have him take a vet with him to look over the dogs. And tell him to be careful."

The blonde woman grabbed her phone and hit the speed dial for Vega's phone. He picked up in three rings and was ready to listen. The information was relayed to the detective and he promised to have a couple of officers start on the list. He was also going to do a double check and make sure none of the owners were missed. Of course there was the risk that the dogs weren't registered, but neither wanted to look at that downside quite yet.

She hung up her phone and turned to talk to Grissom, but was beat by the ringing of the man's phone stopped her, "Grissom."

It was a tense moment as she tried to read the other's facial expression. He was a blank canvas and Catherine quickly gave up. Only the slight widening of his eyes told her something was up. Her ears were wide open as he flipped his phone shut.

"That was Mia. She wants us in her lab right away."

Quickly they both packed up their evidence and placed it out of the way to ensure no one messed anything up. Once things were safe and in place, they left the room, heading straight for the DNA lab. Grissom raised his eyebrows as they were joined by Nick and Warrick on the way. No one said anything to the other as they all walked through the same doorway together.

Mia looked up from the paperwork in her hands. She took in the four CSI's in front of her and sighed softly. This was going to be interesting to tell them all.

"I have worked through both samples from each of your victims. Once I have something to run the DNA against, I should have the identities of each, but that isn't why I called all of you in here."

She turned away from them and grabbed a new sheet of paper that had been sitting on her desk, "I found something interesting in each sample. It was so interesting I had to call Doc to make sure he didn't make any mistakes in his sample taking. He even sent up new vials for retesting just in case. But it was the same."

Grissom looked impatient, but his voice was even, "And what did you find?"

"Both were drugged with the same substance. It was hard to determine since it is organic in nature and rare, but I was able to figure it out with the database. It there had been more time for it to set in, they would have died from it instead of whatever really happened to them."

"And what was it?" Nick jumped in.

"It is a form of Batrachotoxins found in the species _Phyllobates terriblis."_

Warrick's eyes widened, "In what?"

"It's a species of tropical frog, the yellow dart-poison frog to be precise. Or what some people call the "true" poison-dart frog. It is the most poisonous of its family. The ranges of the toxicity vary between frogs, but a single frog can have enough to take out as many as 20,000 mice. From the small dosage I found in the sample of blood, I would say the same one was milked for awhile," Mia looked down at the papers in her hands, "But anyways, these toxins are used to block off sodium channels within muscle fibers which blocks off nerve signals. The victim shuts down slowly and eventually, the heart fails."

"But where in the hell would they get these frogs?" Warrick was shocked with the information.

Nick coughed softly, "You are able to purchase a range of dart frogs off the internet or through a rare pet store. They are not that hard to get a hold of. It isn't exactly the frog itself that is poisonous. It is actually what it eats that makes it so deadly. There are certain insects they eat in the tropics and that are what increases the toxins in their systems which makes them so deadly. If you keep them on another food source such as crickets or fruit flies, they are harmless."

Several pairs of eyes drilled right into the Texan's head. He blushed slightly at the full attention of his coworkers. Nick really hadn't meant to say as much as he had, but it just kept coming from his mouth. Animal Planet was getting into his head way too easily.

Grissom smirked suddenly, "I am impressed Nick. That is a lot of information a lot of people would never know. And I have to concur that you are right. It depends on the region, but it is insect species that they eat that change the toxins in their bodies. Most tropical areas in South and Central America are homes to ranges of ants and other insects that contain their own toxicity. The frogs use it as their own once it enters their bodies."

"So, both our victims have the same poison in their blood. What are the odds of that one happening?" Catherine asked in general.

No one had an answer. It did seem odd. Both bodies were found in different areas and there was nothing to connect them yet. And the causes of death were extremely different. They needed names and addressed on them. Something from their living time on earth may give them insight into why both were given these toxins and then murdered brutally.

Nick jumped when his phone beeped with the new incoming text message. He reached for it and flipped it open to take a look at the message. Vega needed him at that station, now. Looking up at Grissom's knowing smile, he nodded and walked away without a word.

TBC…hmmm, interesting…


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hey, hey! Can we just say **wow** for last night's episode! But Nicky! Not liking that thing on your upper lip! Some scruff would be fine, but that thing just makes him look funny, and older. Maybe it is just me! But anyways, here is a new addition to my little tale. Hope you enjoy. Things are building nicely I think. Can't wait to show you all where it is going. But, well, give me a little more time for that to happen. Thanks for sticking it out with me! Have a great weekend all!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#4**

The three kids were nervous. Both the taller boys kept shifting from foot to foot as they stood in the hallway. Their parents were being held in another room to get papers filled and signed. An officer as squatting down in front of them and informing them about what was going on. Once their parents got through to the new room, they would all be interviewed about what happened and what they saw.

Nick leaned back against the wall as he took in the scene. He had been assigned to do the interviews with Vega by Grissom. The senior CSI thought it would be best for him to talk with the kids since the younger population didn't seem afraid of the Texan. Nick hadn't informed the older man that it wasn't a matter of fear, but of patience and compassion.

There was commotion over at the entrance way and several names shouted out in a thick, Mexican accent. Nick turned to see Vega trying to herd the parents in the hallway without a big fuss, but the mothers all took off running for their child as soon as they saw them. The fathers were more composed, but even they walked quickly to their families.

Sam Vega shook his head and walked over to Nick, offering him his hand, "Hey. You get to do this with me?"

"Yeah. Do you think we should take them all in at once or split them up?"

"It might be best to keep them together for now. We can talk with each one separately if we need something cleared up. I don't want them freezing up on us in the room."

Nick nodded and walked into the interviewing room. There would be enough room for everyone to fit. He wanted to stand anyways. Vega usually did as well during this sort of thing. He stayed quiet and studied the kids as they were brought into the room. Only one parent was allowed in with them. Two fathers and one mother walked in and sat beside their child.

"My name is Sam Vega and this is CSI Nick Stokes. We are going to ask you a few questions about what happened tonight. But first I would like to confirm who is who."

The detective flipped through several papers he was holding and pulled out a single sheet with blocks of information on it. He turned to the first boy. This one was tall and lanky with a dark mop of hair on his head. His clothes were old and the jeans had several holes in them. The sneakers looked to be brand new, but Nick couldn't see what the brand was on them.

"You are…Roberto Molina Sanchez, correct? Age twelve."

The boy addressed nodded and at a prod from his father, he replied, "Yes sir."

"And you are Carlos Cruz-Venzula? Age eleven" this time addressing a short, pudgy boy with cropped black hair. This boy was nicely dressed in what almost looked like a school uniform. His shoes were black and shiny.

"Yes sir, that is me. And this is my mother, Rebecca."

Vega didn't bother addressing the mother, but gave her a nod of acknowledgement. He wanted to get to the questions, "And last, but not least, you are Miguel Johnson? Only eight?"

This boy was quiet and didn't even bothering looking up. His eyes were blank under the bangs of light brown hair. The red t-shit was crumbled and he wore jean shorts. His left knee was scrapped up and there were many scars littering his legs.

"Okay, good. Now, I would like all of you to answer to the best of your abilities. Don't hold anything back. We need to know what happened and how you came across the victim."

The detective nodded to Nick and the Texan took a deep breath, "Hey guys. I want to just start with all of you telling me what you doing at that park at that hour."

None of the boys jumped out with an answer. They exchanged looks with each other and shifted repeatedly within their chairs. Nick breathed slow and calm. He kept his face neutral. This was not going to be easy.

"Were you walking home or to someone's house? How about skating after hours?"

Carlos looked up at those questions, "No, we weren't skating. We cut through the park to get home. It was late and we didn't think there would be any cops around."

"Where were you coming from?"

"Um…we were at a friend's house."

"That late at night? Why didn't you have someone drive you?"

"No one owns a car from our hood, a'right. We didn't do anything, this is not us," Roberto spoke loudly as he moved to the front of his seat, "We just poor Mexican kids and we were out having fun. No one to get us home after it so we walked. The park is safe. Never had issues before. Body just come up out of no wheres man."

Vega looked over the sheets in his hands again. Once he found one he likes, he passed it on to Nick. Sure enough, two of the kids lived two streets away from the skating park, the other, about four. They probably cut through it to get to school as well since it was on the other side of the thing.

Miguel's father coughed to gain attention, "Are the kids at fault for anything Mr. Stokes? If they are, I would appreciate being told so. I would need my lawyer at that point."

Nick looked over at the taller man. The white skin was tanned, whether by booth or lotion Nick couldn't tell. His blonde hair was light and shaggy. Mr. Johnson was a couple sized bigger than Nick as well. He knew his rights. He was going to cause trouble if something were to continue on with the kids.

"That will be unnecessary sir. I just needed to know that your children came across the body in the park and didn't do anything with it."

Carlos shook his head quickly, "No, no. We didn't touch it. Miguel made us call from the pay phone in the park. He said we couldn't leave the person there with no one coming to get it. I called 911 and we waited."

"So Miguel, what made you think to call the police?"

The quiet boy slowly looked up and met Nick's eyes. His voice was timid and quiet. Nothing like his father standing over him, looking madder by the second. Neither of the other parents were saying a thing. Nick felt bad for thinking it, but he had a feeling they might not know English well enough to follow the entire conversation.

"My grandmamma always tells me to get help for others when they need it. Not to be like others that come from the South and ignore people in need. Get whatever possible."

Nick smiled at the boy, "That is good advice. She is a wise woman. And I was wondering, what happened to your leg Miguel?"

"Fell, at school. I was playing soccer," it was whispered.

The CSI took a deep breath and looked up at Vega. It was late and these kids needed to get to home and into bed. The detective nodded and stepped forward once again.

"We are going to let all of you go home now, but I would like everyone to stay home throughout the day. We might need to get a hold of all of you again and ask a few more questions. Thank you for all of this and I apologize for getting you all out of bed to come down here."

Vega stood at the doorway as the kids and their parents filtered out of the room. Nick rubbed his forehead and let his thoughts wonder. There wouldn't be much from any of these kids. They just happened to come across a body in a park. He felt bad that they were allowed to be in that situation in the first place. But that wasn't his job. That was someone's place to take care of.

"The kids didn't see anything. We don't have much more than we did before."

"Nope. Guess we are going to have to hope we get enough from the evidence to put something together. I highly doubt anyone saw anything with this. From what I hear, the parking lot is on the opposite side as all the houses. No one would be sitting at their windows anyways."

Sam smiled and grabbed Nick's shoulder, "I think I like the positive Stokes better."

"Yeah…me too."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine sat at her desk, the phone next to the stack of papers she was looking through. Grissom had been kind enough to give her Nick's work on the White case while he went off to talk with the three kids.

She was trying to figure out where Mr. White could possible be. It was confirmed that it was Sherie White in the house. Her husband should know why, but Brass couldn't find anything on the man. There was a trace out on his car and his credit cards, but nothing was coming up. There were still a few officers searching the city, but it seemed to be pointless at that point.

There was no reason for murdering his wife that was jumping out at the blonde woman as she scanned through the information she had managed to get a hold of on him. He was an accountant and made most of the income. The house was primarily under his name and he was the sole name on both cars they owned. Sherie White didn't seem to have anything he would want. His death was worth more in insurance as well,

A message was left for the man's boss so that when the firm opened for the day, it should be played right away. Catherine had given her cell number as the contact name. Someone from his job might know of something going on. They might know where he was hiding.

Hodges had filled her in on the igniter fluid used in the murder, but there would be no way to track the bottles. The database gave over ten thousand stores that sell that brand. Mr. White could have even been holding onto it for sometime waiting for the right moment to use it. It was a dead-end.

The photos of the tracks and treads from around the house were interesting. Greg was currently working on identifying the possible vehicles that could have been used. It was possible that the husband would have called in help for this. He could have gotten a couple of friends together and came in someone else's truck or van to the house. From the amount of foot tracks, as few as three people to as many as seven were possible.

It was the damn frog toxin that kept messing up any leads she produced in her head. It was odd that an accountant would know enough about exotic frogs to keep one at a poisonous level. And the extraction of the toxins was not an easy task to achieve. One would have to stress the frog and the gather the poison that it leaked out through its skin. It was tedious and hard work to do.

Her head was beginning to hurt to extreme levels. They needed to find the husband. Nothing was left at the house. It had been swept and nothing turned up. Clothes were destroyed, all personal products melted; even the television was nothing more than a black pile. She and Grissom had found nothing on their second run though. Something was not clicking.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Brass and Vega sat together in the department break room. Both detectives were stretched out to new limits. Nothing was coming up on either of their searches. The dog owners were all compliant and allowed the officers and vet to look at the animals, even at such an odd times at night. Everyone wanted to have their pets cleared from the label of murderer. None were missing a tooth or hair clumps. And as for the burning house owner, missing.

"There are days that I really hate this job. I swear, something is against us tonight."

Sam looked over at his colleague, "What makes you say that Jim?"

Brass dropped both his hands hard on the wooden table, "We have had some weird shit in our days, but this is new for me. I mean, damn, poison from frogs, house fires, and dog mauling? Makes me glad I no longer do work for CSI."

"What do you think is going on with all of this?"

"I'm unsure. I mean, the husband is the main suspect with his wife, but why would he kill the boy as well? There is no reason for anything like that."

Sam Vega took a sip of his coffee he held in his right hand. It was getting cold and the taste was bitter. He was glad that Jim was the other detective on this case. The older man knew his stuff and worked well with the entire CSI team. Sam was becoming good friends with most of them, but he was no where near the other cop.

"So Jim, what do you suggest we do from this point? We can have cops checking over this entire city, but I think we have hit a dead end. I talked with the kids that found the boy, but none of them saw anything with the actual drop. They just happened to be in the wrong place. And you have nothing from that house."

"Nope. We have nothing other than the bodies. Let us just hope that…."

The cell phone ringing broke both men's thoughts and conversation. Brass looked stunned at the intrusion and took a moment to reach for the small machine. His hands fumbled with it for a moment as he flipped it open and raised the antenna.

"Brass."

Vega watched the frown lines grow deeper and more pronounced. The younger man would have never thought such a frown was possible. His face would never be able to pull it off. But he kept his face neutral and uninterested as Brass snapped his phone shut with a growl.

"Well, Mr. White is accounted for."

"I would have thought that was good news."

"It would have been if the man had been found alive."

TBC…people just can't seem to stay alive, now can they!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Well, seeing as how the last chapter didn't seem too exciting or interesting to anyone, I now give you my longest single chapter in history of my CSI writing! I find it interesting that my post 5 on my other story didn't get any reviews either. Must not be my best post. Oh well. But anyways….lots of stuff is going to happen and some things may or may not fall into place. Oh, and Nick gets himself into a little bit of trouble, again. But as always, enjoy and let me know what you think of how it is going. Thanks for reading! Later!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#5**

Warrick and Nick came upon the scene after what seemed to be the entire police department blocked the area off. The two CSI's walked around to the back of the large house, following Officer Kehls. The young office was quiet and walked stiffly. Nick would tell all this was beginning to wear on the newer man.

"Detective Brass and Vega are back here. They are by the wooden gazebo."

With a nod, Warrick took the lead and they left Andrew behind them. The two cops were standing close and were talking to each other. Neither seemed aware of anything around them.

"Hey Brass, what's going on? What did you call us for?"

"We found the husband. Mr. White is in there."

Nick didn't bother asking any questions and went straight for the doorway. The smell hit him first. It smelled like boiled pig fat. Mr. Ralph White was face down in the cooling water of the hot tub. He skin was bloated out and looked waxy. His left foot was hooked over the edge.

"Shit. What the hell is going on!"

The Texan stood to the side to allow for Warrick to enter the small space. The taller CSI looked around with hard, green eyes. Mr. White was only three houses from his own. It would be far fetched to believe the man walked to his neighbor's house to boil himself alive in a private tub.

"Where are the owners of this house?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Furber are away for the week. I have contacted them at her sister's house in New York. No one else lives here."

With a deep breath, Nick stepped closer to the side of the large green tube. It looked to hold up to six people and had several stairs around in it to get in and out easily. This was something Nick had always wanted for his home. Maybe not so much anymore.

"We are going to need to get this whole thing back to the lab. Drain the water and take it as well," Nick looked to Warrick for agreement.

"Yeah. We should process it all there. Who's the coroner coming?"

Vega popped his head in, "Phillips is on his way. I told him to be prepared for water log."

Warrick snapped a few photos of the tub and body. He leaned close to the ridge of the plastic and couldn't figure out any point where the body was dumped in. A look to his left proved there was only one door in and out. They would need to check out the lawn.

"How many people have been in this area?"

"Well, the neighbor that lives in that house," Brass pointed right, "Smelled something odd. He walked out into his backyard to see what it was and noticed the lights on in here. With the Furbers gone, he figured something was up and walked over to check it out. He found Mr. White and called 911. Other than him, Sam and I. That is it. I kept everyone else away and to the front of the house."

The taller CSI nodded and left his partner in the gazebo. His eyes swept the ground with his flashlight. In a few areas, the grass was compacted down, but there was no distinct sign of distress. He snapped a few more pictures of the entrance way and the surrounding lawn. This would all be ripped up when they removed the tub.

David Phillips walked around the house with a gurney following behind him. The black bag felt heavy in his hands. He could see Warrick walking around outside the wooden structure. Nick must still be inside of it. He didn't hesitate as he walked forward.

"Hey Warrick."

"Hey Dave. Body's in there, man."

The smell was strong, but David had been subject to much worst. He could deal with this. The body was no longer face down. Nick had turned the man over and pulled him closer to the edge. The CSI was looking over the white, bubbly face. There was no sign of trauma.

"Nick. Are you ready for me to take him?"

"Yeah, hey there Dave. You gonna need help getting him out?"

"I have help. Thanks though. You should probably get started on the tub processing."

Nick nodded and starred into the water depth. It was a fairly shallow tub. He could see the bottom with ease. There was a brown substance against the green. Warrick said there had been dirt turned up at the other house. They should be able to get a match between the samples.

The Texan walked out and headed towards the front of the house once again. He pulled out his cell phone and rang for Greg, "Hey boss. I need you to bring the wet vac and several large containers. We have a hot tub to drain and bring in to the lab….get the flatbed….see you then."

Now that the call was made, Nick stopped in his tracks. He bent forward and placed his left hand on his knee, the right one still clutching the phone. This was becoming one weird night and there were still a couple hours left before the sun rose over the horizon to scare away everything bad in the night.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Grissom watched Greg gather the vacuum and head out to one of the company trucks. He had heard about what happened with their main suspect in the house fire and murder. Catherine hadn't dug up anything on the White's to give motive for murder. And now the husband was dead, most likely murdered as well.

The body was on the way to the lab with Dave. Grissom wanted to be in the room when Robbins began his work. Anything on the body could give another suspect to the team. They had nothing from the boy in terms of a guilty party. No missing person report fit the possible description of the kid. He was clean with no record so nothing came up with finger prints. They had nothing on the kid.

The senior CSI walked slowly down the deserted hallway and thought about everything that had happened in the short hours of that night. The locations of all the bodies were not that far from each other in all reality. And it was confirmed that the same frog was used on the two victims down in the freezers. It was a stretch to believe that Sherie White may have been cheating on her husband with the young man and the husband killed them both, then in guilt killed himself. Grissom was not going to buy suicide for any of them.

Through the glass walls he could see the techs hard at work on several different cases, trying to fix lives and bring peace for the people remaining. He was missing something. It was a small issue, but something in the back of his head was screaming at him. Grissom let his feet take over and they took him to the morgue. The lights were dim as he pushed open the door.

Frosted glass doors waited for him as he approached the freezers. Gil studied them until he picked one at random. He didn't know who was in any of them. But the chance proved safe. The young male was lying on the sliding table. Grissom pulled it out with ease. A new smell wafted out with it.

"What the hell!"

Grissom leaned in closer and his eyes got even wider. His phone was pulled from his belt and flipped open. Catherine answered in two rings.

"Catherine. The kid was at the damn house….he smells like lighter fluid."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The bushes were low to the ground, but it kept the two huddled bodies safe from the eyes and ears of all the police hanging around. The larger of the two kept shifting around. His nerves were shot. This was not supposed to happen. The husband wasn't supposed to be found this quickly, not according to their master.

"Fuck! What are we going to do?"

"It's your fault for wearing a watch. We are not going to get it back. The cops are going to have it. Tough shit for you man," a feminine voice taunted, "Come on, let's go. We have to get back."

The bushes barely shuffled as they ducked and ran through the dark yards. Things were set in to motion and they had news for their master.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Drowning victims were always interesting to work with, but Doc Albert Robbins never let anything get in his way. This body had been submerged under the boiling water in the beginning of his asphyxia. There was almost a half gallon of water that was pumped from the victim's lungs. It sat within a glass jar ready for processing.

Robbins studied the neck and shoulders the man. There was no sign of bruises or marks from strangulation by an object, but of course the maceration of the skin made it all the more difficult to tell. And since this body had been in extremely warm water, the skin absorbed a lot of water. Most of the hands were white and thick, covered in wrinkles. If the doctor didn't have the man's wallet with his picture ID inside, Robbins might have through this man was elderly by those hands.

Carefully, he picked up the right hand and examined the nails. They were soft, but still strongly attached to the hands. Using a wooden stick, he cleaned out from underneath all the nails on the hand. Not much other than bloated flesh fell from the nails. There was no sign of a struggle.

With a sigh, Robbins slowly made his way to the rolling table he had set up with tools and syringes. He picked one up and carefully located a vein in the arm of the victim. The blood slowly got pulled out the dead skin with a pull of the cork on the end of the vial. It would be a good sample to send to Mia.

The morgue door swung open and heavy footsteps echoed throughout the room. Grissom didn't even bother to say hello, which the coroner really didn't mind at all. The other man just wanted to know what he could from Mr. White.

"Well, this is an interesting case. I would have preferred they used cold water to drown this man. Warm to hot water does nothing, but speed up all the process of death. I will not be able to place a good T.O.D. on this, Gil. The body is still cooling from the inside as we speak."

"What do we have then?"

"Well, the maceration of the skin is greater than normal. Even if he had been in that water for only thirty minutes, he is showing signs of being in the tub for at least six hours. And as for the rigor mortis, as you know, persists longer when submerged. It seems that in the fourth stage of Mr. White's drowning he clutched his left hand together. I haven't tried to loosen the fingers yet," the doctor moved around the body a little, "As you can see his body has taken a pinkish color similar to those that die from carbon monoxide poisoning. Hypostasis confirms that the body was face down in the water when you found him. You can see it clearly in the face, the upper part of the chest, and the lower portion of his arms."

"Do you think the man was alive when he was placed in the tub?"

"Placed?"

Grissom nodded his head, "Yeah, I am not taking the easy way out with suicide on this one."

"Alright then," Robbins walked to the man's head and tipped it backwards, exposing the open mouth and throat, "As you can see, there is a froth cone present in his airway. There is some blood mixed in with the mucus and water, but I cannot say yet that there was a chest trauma. In fact, I haven't seen any signs of a struggle."

The two men stood and stared down at the body. Grissom didn't like any of this at all. If there had been someone else involved in all of this, it would seem odd that Mr. Ralph White didn't fight for his wife or even his own life. And if he had been placed into the hot tub while still breathing, wouldn't he have fought to get out?

"Did you get a blood sample?"

"Right here. Do you want to take it up to Mia?"

"Sure, I can do that. Keep working. See if you can find anything that might connect him to the other two murders. Look everywhere for something that might show a fight, defensive or offensive."

Grissom walked from the cool room with the blood vial in his hand. He looked down and read the label closely to make sure everything was correct even though he trusted Doc Robbins completely. It was just an anal thing about the way he worked. Double check everything, chance nothing.

He passed Catherine on his way to the DNA and blood lab. She looked pleased with herself, "Well, Hodges matched the lighter fluids. They are the same. But the boy doesn't have a burn mark on his body anywhere Gil. If he was in the same house and got some of the liquid on him, wouldn't he have some sign of a burn?"

"Remember what Warrick and Greg said. There was a sign of a struggle in the backyard and it looked like someone was dragged from the house. It is possible the boy was present in the house when Mrs. White was being doused, but not for the actual burning."

"I guess that is possible. What do you have there?"

Grissom looked down into his hand again, "A sample from Mr. White."

The blond CSI nodded her head and shifted her weight. She too was worried about this now-combined case. They had to come up with something or they were going to go nowhere really quickly. With another nod, she turned on her heels and continued on to her office.

Grissom found Mia starring at a blank computer screen. The black woman seemed to be in deep thoughts about something. Some other time he would feel guilty over disturbing her.

"I have some new blood for you to work with."

"I figured as much," the stool swiveled as she turned to face her night supervisor, "New vic?"

"Yeah, this belongs to Mr. White, the burn victim's husband. I need you to see what you can dig up on it. And…check for the frog toxin as well."

The tech's eyebrows shot up, "You think?"

"I never stop. Let me know what you find."

He handed off the vial and left the room. Once he was back in the hallway, Grissom could hear a commotion at that end of the hallway. It was the large lab room where they did most of their work with automobiles and large objects. He was pretty sure that was where Greg parked the hot tub from the Furber's backyard.

Sure enough, Nick, Greg and Warrick were all standing around it arguing with each other. The lead CSI simply stood in the doorway and took in the scene. None of them could decide on what to do with the damn thing.

"Oh come on Nicky! Why would we want to take the entire thing apart! I mean, _damn_! This thing is huge and we will get nothing out of it."

Nick shot Warrick a glare, "Just pulling out the filters will do nothing. We need to check out the entire filter system and that is _inside _the tube walls. How else do you propose we get to it?"

Greg just looked between the two. He had seen the fights these two could have over a case and was not interesting in getting in between them. Both could crush him in a second. He wasn't sure he had enough sick time to cover the hospital time. As Warrick slammed his hand down on the rim of the green plastic, Greg was once again trying to figure out how these two could be best friends most of the time.

"How much time do you think we have here, man? That will take hours!"

"Well, what the hell else do we have to do right now!"

Grissom had had enough, "Okay guys. What is going on in here?"

The three men whipped to face their boss, all different expressions. Greg looked guilty, Nick looked defiant, and Warrick looked like he could have cared less. Grissom would have smiled if it was under different circumstances.

"We are trying to figure out how to process the tube and all the water," Greg mumbled.

"It would seem best to me that we process the entire filtration system of this thing. Spilt up the jobs and take apart the tub. Let me know what you guys get."

Nick grinned as he watched his boss leave the room. When he looked over at Warrick, he was lucky that looks weren't lethal. He was going to hear about this one later that was for sure. The taller man would torture him somehow.

"Alright, since you, 'Rick decided the tub didn't need to come apart, I think you should take that step. Greg, you can take care of the actual filters and see if there is anything caught in the fibers. I'll take the tub itself and check out the inside."

"You sure sound like you are in charge here Nicky."

"Well, that is what happens, man, when the best of the group knows what is going on."

Warrick chuckled and smiled, "Best my ass. If you are the best that we have, I will eat a chicken head."

"A little gruesome isn't that bro?"

"First thing that came to mind, lay off."

"I would hate to know what other _first _things come to you mind."

Greg coughed, "Are you two done yet? We have work to do!"

Both men glanced at each other and then faced the newest member of the graveyard team, "We are working!"

The tones of their voices mixed well. Greg shook his head and turned from the laughter. He loved working with the two guys, but their sense of humor escaped even him on times. It was a wonder that Grissom didn't call in extra help just to keep those two under wraps.

The former lab rat watched the two CSI's begin to work together to work on the tub. Warrick bent down and began running his gloved hand over the edges trying to find the bolts. Nick sat down on the ground to slip some rubber boots over his shoes so he could climb on in. With a slight laugh to himself, Greg walked over and took a look at the filter entrances.

There were two. Careful not to fall in, Greg bent over the edge of the tube and looked into the hole in the plastic. It was a basic hot tub filter and he would be able to take the filter grate off with little problem. Greg leaned in a little farther in order to get his hand in. His body tensed when he felt a hand on his back. The added weight caused him to fight it and stand up.

Nick slid against the bottom once he lost Greg as his balance. The tube was slick from the mud and he had to lean on Greg for a second to stabilize his footing. Gravity was not on his side and with a soft grunt, he sat heavily down in the tube. Something hard jabbed into his right butt cheek.

"Thanks Greg."

"Damn Nick. You scared the crap out of me there. Don't do that!"

Warrick just laughed. He watched the scene play out and almost fell himself when Nick did. It was hilarious. Greg was breathing hard against his shock and sudden frustration. Nick was trying to stand up again.

"Do you need a hand, bro?"

Nick glared at him from his seated position in the tub, "That would be nice. You guys do suck though. Man, something is biting into my ass!"

Grabbing the hand that was thrust out at him, Warrick pulled and managed to get Nick on his feet. The Texan turned immediately and looked back down to where he had been forced to sit. There was something shiny standing out from the dark brown of the mud. He leaned down and dug the object out.

"Well I'll be. Either Mr. White likes to wear two watches or our killer got messy."

"What are you going on about?"

Nick smirked as he looked his partner in the eye, "When I was looking over Mr. White in the tub at the scene, he had his watch on. And I got bit by the other one. Here, take it."

Warrick took the watch and wiped some more dirt off of it. It was a Rolex knock off, but it was well done. It was made to actually work for longer than a day. Not a purchase from downtown or on the Strip, that was for sure. Warrick bagged it and wrote a few notes on the envelope for later.

Greg studied the trap he pulled out from the first filter. There was nothing major in it, but there were a few hair samples. Most would probably be from the owners, but some might be the victim. He was going to have to be careful to get them all from both.

"Well, nothing else, but a shit load of mud in here. Either Mr. White was rolled in it before he was dropped in here, or the killer got pulled in as well."

"Take a sample, then get out. I need to take the damn thing apart thanks to you," Warrick grumbled.

"Ya know," Nick smiled sweetly, "I was going to help you with it, but if you are going to cop that attitude, I think I won't."

The taller CSI gave Nick a slight push when the Texan tried to get out. It off balanced him again, but this time Nick ended up landing, hard, on the ground. Warrick stopped laughing as soon as he heard the moan. It wasn't one of embarrassment.

"Nick? Buddy?"

Greg helped Warrick as they reached down and pulled Nick up by the arms. Nick's face was twisted up in a pain filled grimace. "That hurt."

"Shit man! What happened? What hurts?"

"My arm."

Greg carefully took the limb out of Nick's hold and prodded it starting at the elbow. When he got to the wrist, Nick gave out a low hiss. His eyes scrunched up and he pulled to get his arm back from Greg's hands.

"You may have done something to you wrist. You need to get it looked at."

"Great. Just what I need."

Warrick looked crestfallen, "Shit Nicky. I'm sorry! I didn't mean for anything to happen!"

"Hey, it was an accident. Don't go all girly on me man," Nick tried to grin, but it didn't work as Greg continued to push on his hand.

"Whatever. I will take ya to Robbins. He might know what is up."

Nick didn't argue with Warrick as he grabbed him by the shoulder and started leading him from the room. His cheeks flushed at the stares they were getting, but Warrick wouldn't let him go. The other man was way too protective when he got in one of his moods. When Grissom looked up from his desk when they passed his office, Nick sped up a little. He wanted this over with so they could get back to work. And, damn, his wrist really hurt.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine looked up from some delayed paperwork when Grissom walked in. His face was void of any emotion and she didn't bother trying to find anything. She could only hope that he had some good news to tell her.

"Do you have any idea why Nick and Warrick are running around the lab?"

"What?"

"They both just ran past my office. I was wondering if they came to talk to you about it."

"I haven't seen either of them. Weren't they working with Greg?"

The senior CSI nodded his head once and then left the lab. Catherine got up and was hot on his heels. They both were almost to the room where they could see Greg struggling with the tub when Mia walked into their path.

"Hey boss. I have the results from Mr. White's sample. It came back positive for the frog toxin. He had about the same level as the other two. I would have to say he was drugged with it before he drowned since it isn't diluted."

"Well, that takes White out as our suspect. Robbins bagged his clothes, see if you can find Hodges and have him check to see if there is any trace of that lighter fluid on them."

The lab tech nodded and began to move away, "Sure thing."

Catherine called to stop the other woman, "Hey Mia, you know what Nick and Warrick are going on about?"

"No, but I do know that Warrick was moving them pretty quickly to the morgue when I saw them."

The two CSI's looked at each other and turned around. No one got in their way this time as they finally reached the steel double doors. They both stopped once they entered the room.

Nick was sitting up on top of one of the steel tables, his shirt sleeve rolled up. Warrick was hovering around behind the other man. Doc Robbins had his glasses on and the light focused on Nick's wrist. Every time he pushed on the area, Nick would wince.

"I would have to say, I think you may have a broken wrist. You should have this x-rayed. I'll call ahead over to Desert Palms so you can get right in. Warrick you will have to take him."

Grissom got over his silence, "Now what happened? And no excuses. You were only supposed to be looking over that hot tub."

"It's my fault."

"I slipped."

The two men answered at once, but Catherine had no problem getting all the words and the guilt behind Warrick's, "How did this happen?"

Warrick cleared his throat and started before Nick could say a word, "We were goofing around and when Nick was getting out of the tub, I gave him a little push. It was enough to cause him to fall and now his wrist might be broken."

"It was an accident," Nick threw in quickly at the end.

A sigh filled the room. The two CSI Level 3's glanced at each other as they took in their boss's face. This was not going to be good.

"Get to the hospital. Give me a call when you know what is going on. I'll go help Greg finish up with the tub. Catherine, go check with Mia and Hodges. See if you can gather all the evidence on the three vic's and create a scene."

Grissom turned around without another word. Catherine smiled, "You boys are going to be the death of me."

"Sorry mom."

"You both better be," her exit was just as quiet as Grissom's.

"Alright man. Lets go radiate your ass and see what's up."

Nick nodded and let Warrick help him off the table. It was pointless to fight the other man. He was going to go all big brother on him and there was little Nick could do to stop it. This always happened. It was easier to let it go. Nick grinded his teethe slightly as he felt the rush of blood back to his cheeks as they walked into the main lobby before the doors. People were starring again.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The blindfold kept even the tiniest of light from reaching his pupils. He could hear the others around him, but couldn't keep the voices clear. They were constantly moving and not allowing him to place them. He knew who was here. This was nothing new to the group.

He was sitting in a chair they had placed in an empty pool. It wasn't a large pool, nothing to brag too much about. But it seemed deep and large now. And they were going to fill it. This was not supposed to happen to him. He couldn't keep the sobs in.

Stuff was floating through his veins. He knew what it was. They had all been colleagues, he knew their secrets. The frog toxin was something he knew very well. He just had never collected it, but he had spent a few hours over time watching the frogs in their glass world. He only wished they had given it sooner so that he would be more numb while this was happening.

"Why? Why me?"

No one said a word to him. They simply kept whispering around him. Something started to hum and churn. There was some excitement going on as he heard a liquid hitting the tile of the pool bottom. It took only a couple of seconds for whatever it was to begin to lap at his shoes. A hand touched his face and the blindfold was gone. He could see everything.

He watched the other person as they walked through the forming sea of yellow. It was getting higher as it poured out of the large mixer sitting on the back of a truck. He hated the color, feared it. His mother had always worn it when she used her belt on him or his siblings. Now they were using it against him, like they did with everyone.

The pleading was nothing to the others. They all simply sat there and watched as it reached up to his neck. It was pouring quicker than he would have thought. The taste was not what he expected. He was going to die in a world of complete yellow. He screamed as his throat filled.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **First off, I would like to say sorry to everyone I made feel bad about not reviewing. I was having a bad day on Sunday and didn't stop to think how that all sounded to everyone. Sorry to take it out on all of you. Any and all reviews are welcome since they help me judge how this story is being received so I can adjust it as it goes. But if you have no time or want to be lazy about it, then so be it. Don't feel pressured at all. Enough from me, lets get onto the good stuff! Lots of the boys in this one! And oh yeah, a little with the case at the end. Have fun and remember to floss! Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#6**

The room was white. Everything about it screamed sterile and clean. It might have been what the White's kitchen looked like before it went up in flames. Nick started to count the tiles on the ceiling above his head. It was boring in this hospital room.

Warrick was sitting in the hard plastic chair next to the examination bed that the Texan was forced to sit on. The other man's head was tipped down. His breath was deep and quiet. Nick was tempted to harass the other man while he caught a nap, but didn't want to have to see the guilt written all over that face again so soon. He would get enough as it was.

The doctor had gone off to get his x-rays that were taken almost two hours ago. Nick wanted to go home and crash. Their shift was officially over an hour ago and Warrick got a call from Grissom saying they were done until next shift. It sounded like he sent everyone home for some rest. But Nick was stuck starring at tiles on the ceiling.

He counted to three hundred forty nine when the door opened and his doctor slipped into the room. The woman was tiny, no taller than five and a half feet. It wouldn't take much to be able to crush her. But her face showed her strength and her intelligence. Dr. Susan Mercer was not a doctor Nick would ever mess with.

The doctor looked at the other man in the room before she began to speak in soft tones, "Well, Mr. Stokes. You have broken your wrist in two places. We are going to need to set the bones and cast you before you are allowed to leave. And then you are to take some time off of work."

"Sorry, but I won't be able to do that. This is a big case we are working on and everyone will be needed. Just give me some of those awesome pain pills you have and I will be ready to go."

"Sorry Nick, but I am not going to give you those pills just so you can back to work and dig yourself into another hole. I am tired of fixing you up all the time."

"But this is just two little broken bones, no bullet holes, concussions, or strangle marks. Plain and simple. Easy to fix."

Dr. Mercer frowned, "I could wake your friend and have this talk with him."

"No, no," Nick sat up straighter, "I will do as you say. Let's go do this. Maybe we will be back before he even wakes up."

"Fine, I'll have a nurse check on him to make sure he knows what is going on just in case. Now, do you want the green pants or should we go with the tie gown?"

"You just want to see my ass. It'll cost you more than you make. Just give me the damn pants."

Both laughed softly as Dr. Mercer led Nick from the room. He followed slowly as they made their way to another room that Nick had never been in. He really didn't know this hospital all that well, no matter how many trips he had made to it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg Sanders stood and starred down at the floor. He was tired and his eyes were beginning to burn from overuse. The tub was in pieces at his feet and he had gone over every inch of it with a fine tooth comb and a tweezers. All the contents he had uncovered were sitting in their individual little baggies on the table to his left. Hair, mud, hair, something black and slimy, and more hair.

The filter system was more impressive then he would have ever thought possible on a mere hot tub. It extended the entire length from each of the filter slots and there were four main filter sponges along the way. The traps were effective and caught many things. Greg only hopped to find something in the less visible to the eye.

He looked down at his watch and saw that his shift had been over an hour and forty minutes ago. After he heard the commotion caused in the hallway from Catherine and Grissom, he hadn't seen anyone. With a deep breath, Greg turned his back on the dismantled tub and left the room. The door to the room closed and sealed. Greg walked swiftly down the hallway to where he had a feeling Grissom would be.

Sure enough, Grissom was sitting behind his desk and looking over some papers. The former lab tech shifted on his feet before he worked up the courage to actually enter the sanctuary. Billy the bass didn't offer a tune for Greg, but Grissom did look up to see who had entered.

"Greg, I thought you left by now? I told everyone to get some sleep."

"Nah, I just finished up with the tub. I went over it and found nothing major. The water from the tub and from the removal of the body washed away any possible prints. I did manage to get some stuff from the filter traps. I was going to go over it."

"Greg, go home. Get some sleep and come back. Fresh start, fresh eyes. I will have the area sealed off for you. Warrick will be able to help you later again as well."

"Nick not coming back?"

"I haven't heard anything from either."

"Where are they?"

"Doc sent them off to Palms. I would assume they are both still there and not at home yet."

Grissom watched as Greg nodded his head slowly. He really didn't need to be a scientist to know the younger man was not going to make a straight trip home. Not hearing from either of his CSI's was a little unnerving for the supervisor since it most likely meant something serious had happened from the horsing around. It was not something they need right now.

"Well, I'll head out then. See you next shift."

Greg didn't wait for a response as he booked it out of the office. Desert Palms was not far out of the way on his route home. He would be able to swing in and see what was going on. It had to be more serious than Nick played if he was sent to the hospital. No one stopped him on his way to the locker room to get changed and to grab his keys.

He nodded at Hodges as the other man exited the room as he walked in. Greg's locker had been moved since he had become a CSI and it was now located closer to Nick's. It opened with no problems and Greg hastily ripped off the buttoned shirt he wore for the shift. His body praised him for the soft cotton of one of his infamous t-shirts that supposedly had disappeared. Someone would have to pry the worn cotton from his dead, cold hand before they met a trash can.

Making sure he had his wallet, Greg grabbed his keys and slammed the locked shut. The sound echoed around the room, but Greg didn't waste time to see how long it jumped around the room. Nick, Warrick and he had already done that. If there was no one else in the room and everyone stood close together by the bench, four seconds.

His car was waiting and ready when he opened the door and dropped inside. No one was leaving the lab at the moment and there was no hassle with traffic. He reached the visitor parking lot of the hospital in no time. The glass sliding doors were quiet as he stepped into the sterile environment. He paused slightly at the doorway, shadows of the past crept by him. Greg shook it off and set his mind on something else before former boogie men could jump from their closets.

The lady at the front desk was twirling a pencil and snapping her gum when Greg stepped up to her, "Hi, I'm looking for a patient."

"Name," her tone was bored and clipped. She didn't even look up.

"Stokes. Nick Stokes. He just came in about an hour ago I guess it would be."

The woman's fake nails clinked at the keys as she typed in the name and her eyes lazily read the records it gave, "He is still in emergency. Go check there."

Greg didn't say another word as he left the woman to herself. The emergency area was easy to find since all you really had to do was follow the signs that read EMERGENCY and had red arrows pointing down hallways. It was fairly busy.

Seeing another desk with another woman behind it, Greg prepped himself for another rude encounter, "I'm looking for a patient who came in about an hour ago."

The brunette almost seemed to bounce with excitement as she looked up and focused on Greg. Her teeth were shiny and white as she flashed him a large smile. Her dimpled proved it wasn't a fake and just for show. Her entire attitude screamed overdose on coffee. Greg knew it well.

"And what is the name?"

"Nick Stokes."

"Oh, the poor man with the arm thing. Nice guy, nice _looking_ guy," she giggled slightly at that, "He is down that hallway, room seven."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"No prob. Don't let him leave until he comes up here first. I want to give him my phone number, just in case you know."

"I'll see what I can do," Greg smiled and walked away.

Only Nick would be able to have girls throwing themselves at him in a hospital. Greg would never be able to say anything like that. It was said and hilarious all at the same time. But the woman was nice, even though Greg never did look to see what her name was. Nick might already know.

A baby was crying off to his left as he watched the room numbers go by with each footstep he took. It wasn't a long walk to find seven and he knocked softly before he let himself in. The bed was empty. Warrick looked like he was about to fall on the floor. Greg felt like he was five again as he stalked over to the other man, a grin on his entire face. He pressed his lips together to hold in the laughs as he gently reached out and brushed his fingertips across Warrick's left cheek.

The other man hit the tile, "What the! What!"

Greg lost his battle with the laughter, "Oh damn, that was funny. I wish there were cameras in this place. I would pay big bucks to get a copy."

"You are a dead man."

"That's illegal."

"Only if you get caught. I think I can make that not an option."

"You wouldn't. Who would make you coffee?"

"Starbucks," the taller CSI deadpanned.

"Cold, just cold, dude. Here I thought I liked you."

"I told you never to think. But what the hell are you doing here?"

Greg hopped onto the currently unused bed, "I wanted to check up on you guys since you both left me alone to take that stupid tub apart. My hands are not used to that kind of work you know."

Warrick rubbed his face with both his hands. His neck hurt and now so did his ass. Finally realizing he was still sitting on the floor like a fool, Warrick pushed himself up and back into his chair. And his eyes took in the sight of the bed that Greg was sitting on.

"Where the hell is Nick?"

"I dunno. Did you lose him already? This is a hospital, geez."

The taller man pulled his body upright and walked to look out into the hallway. There was no one running around that he could see at the moment. Nick must have gotten pulled out by the doctor again. Warrick sighed as he went back into the room and sat back in his ass numbing chair. His body was tired and didn't like all this sudden movement.

"He must be with the doctor again. I don't know what really happened yet. Fell asleep."

"I could see that. But I can wait. I am curious after all."

"Curiosity killed the lab rat. You should just head home and get some sleep Greg. We can fill you in on the entire gory details next shift."

"I don't think Grissom will let Nick back if he hurt himself."

"We'll deal with that when we come to it. Nick won't not go in."

Their conversation was interrupted by voices coming down the hallway. The laughter was easy for both men to recognize. Nick's laugh had its own category. The Texan was smiling when he walked back into the room, the small doctor right behind him.

"Well lookie here, you're finally awake and another guest. I must be the man of the hour."

Nick's face dropped when he saw neither man was looking up, but down. Both men had their eyes directed to the sling around his shoulder, holding his arm immobile. The chunk of white plaster gave away the cast immediately. Warrick looked a little pale.

"Shit Nick, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that!"

"Warrick, shut up. This isn't your fault. It was an accident and it will be fine. Just two broken bones. A few weeks and this thing will be off and I will be kicking you ass at basketball once again."

Dr. Mercer stepped forward, "One of you needs to drive him home. I have started his pain meds and he shouldn't be driving with them. I called in the prescription so it should be ready for pick-up. Don't let him do anything stupid and make sure he gets plenty of rest. You should be out of work for at least a week Nick."

"Sure," Nick didn't meet the doctor's eyes.

"I'll make sure he gets his stuff and gets his rest. You're under my care now bro."

"Great. You'll see me within a few hours dead and a look of fear on my face. Momma Warrick leaves a lot to the imagination."

The doctor laughed and turned around, "Just don't kill each other boys. Go home and get some sleep, all of you. Each one of you looks ready to drop."

None of the men had a chance to answer. Greg stood and walked over to Nick. He smiled at the other man and studied the brown eyes. Nick was on something, strong. His eyes were relaxed and slightly glossy.

"Seeing the fact they didn't amputate, I am going to take my leave. See you guys later. Night!"

"See ya Greggo. Thanks for visiting."

Warrick pushed himself up again, his body protesting again. He grabbed his keys from the table he had set them on and wheeled Nick from the room. The Texan didn't say a word as he walked towards the exit doors to the emergency area. The perky woman behind the desk sat up straighter as they approached. Nick didn't have a chance to stop. Warrick shoved him hard in the lower back to keep moving.

A glare was turned to Warrick as he stepped up to the counter, "I need to know where his meds are at and is there something for at home care to grab?"

"Yeah, yeah. Here are some sheets on keeping the cast clean and dry…and his scripts were sent to the Walgreens. Should be ready. Said no wait," it was all mumbled.

Warrick grabbed the sheets she thrust at him and walked out the doors to meet up with Nick. The other man was standing at the curb, his eyes closed. Warrick was slow with his actions as he placed a hand on Nick's shoulder to get him moving again. They walked in silence to the truck.

Nick starred out the window the entire ride to the Walgreens and didn't try to change the radio station like normal. It was odd, but nothing that made Warrick worry. He was too busy dealing with his own emotions at all of this anyways. There were no other cars in the pharmacy drive-thru when he pulled up. The clerks were efficient and kind. There were no problems and the pharmacist was clear on the medication instructions. Warrick answered for Nick on all the questions.

The drive to Nick's townhouse was quick and Warrick hopped out of the car when it stopped in the drive way. Nick as slower to move out of the car. The adrenaline of the night was gone and now there was only pain and exhaustion. He handed over his keys to his friend and waited to be let in. The house was warm and only served to make him even more tired as he walked through his living room.

"I'll set your keys and pills on the counter man. Do you need another one now?"

"No, I got enough of a jump start from the doc," it was garbled to Warrick as the other man continued to walk away towards the bedroom.

Warrick got things settled on the counter and went after the other man. He snorted in laughter when he saw Nick already passed out of the bed, legs hanging over the side. It took a little work, but he managed to get Nick onto the bed fully. He positioned a couple of the extra pillows around his upper body to keep him from rolling on the injured limb. There was going to be no way he was going to get the sling off, but he settled for the shoes.

Once Nick was covered with a blanket, Warrick walked out into the living room and dropped onto the couch. It was comfortable and Warrick really didn't feel like driving anymore. And besides, Nick might need his help sometime in the day time. Getting used to an arm cast could always be a pain. And from the look he had gotten of it, his fingers and thumb here not as free to use anymore.

Warrick kicked off his shoes and grabbed one of the throw blankets to throw over himself. It was warm and he knew he wouldn't need more than that. His eyes were shut almost right away after he dropped his head onto the Texas A&M pillow. His phone going off and ringing didn't even cause him to stir.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine hung her phone up harshly. She turned to Gil who was watching her every move, "No answer. I can't get a hold of any of them. Not even Greg."

"Well, they were all pretty tired when they left. And Nicky might be on some pain medication right now as well. We will have to wait."

"But this isn't something that can just wait Gil."

"We can handle it. And, we don't even know if it is part of our case yet."

Catherine shook her head in frustration, "No, but another dead body. Weird cause? It is too suspicious to be anything else."

Grissom didn't say a word and they both left the break room together. Brass just had called in with a new body. The detective didn't sound happy. They were all going into serious overtime. But how often did you get a body covered in yellow paint found in a parked car? Both CSI's walked out, dragging a little.

TBC…


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Still on my high from last night! Went to see Bon Jovi in Madison! Has to be the best concert I have ever seen! Thought I would share the love with a new chapter. This one is a lot of our odd ball case, but we get a new clue! Thanks for all the kind words on the last chapter. Mucho appreciated! Talk to you next time! _Your love is like bad medicine_….

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#7**

Jim Brass was pissed off. The hysterical woman that found the car with the body was still crying and yelling about death and how cruel it all was. It was always something that working its way under the detective's skin and made him want to crawl away from it. He wished Sam would move her farther away from him and the car.

The body was sitting upright in the driver's seat of the car, the head tilted to the right slightly. There was no sign of red amongst the yellow paint covering the victim and parts of the car. The paramedics had opened the door to check to make sure the victim was dead. Brass knew as soon as he saw the body that it was. No one would just take a nap covered in that shit.

He stepped closer and took a good look at the body. It was a young man, age undeterminable with the paint. Brass didn't want to touch anything until Grissom showed up so he didn't go hunting for a wallet. Officer Kehls was working on the plates and model of the car to see if they could come up with anything that way.

The sound of a new vehicle on the scene made Jim turn. Catherine climbed out of the passenger side first and already had her camera and kit in hand. The senior CSI was a little slower in his exit from the SUV. But both were by Brass' side soon enough.

"So, anyone hate yellow as much as I do?"

Grissom quirked an eyebrow, "Yellow is said to be a soothing color. Many people associate it with happiness and joy since it is bright and vibrant."

"I would have to say this yellow looks like dog vomit to me, no sunshine here," Catherine stated.

The yellow wasn't one of the more attractive shades possible. It looked almost to have touches of brown and green tones throughout it. And the paint looked thick.

"Anyone disturb anything?"

"Paramedics opened the door and checked the vitals. Otherwise, no one."

The two CSI's moved forward. Catherine began taking her photos as Gil examined the open door of the car. The paint covered the entire inside of it. The body might have rested against it at one point. He pulled on his gloves and swiped a finger into the paint. It was thick. He couldn't decide what official color to even begin to call the mess.

Once Catherine got enough of the body in the car, Gil carefully removed the man and laid him out on the cement right by the door. He moved slightly so that Catherine could continue her snapshots. The man's eyes were closed, but his mouth was open slightly. Grissom worked an index finger in between the teeth and opened the lips wider. Yellow paint coated the tongue and teeth.

"I think we may have suffocation here."

Catherine stopped and looked down at her boss, "What?"

"There's paint in his mouth and nostrils."

"Weird."

The graying haired man nodded his head and continued to look at the body. There really wasn't much to see at that point. All of the paint had to go. Robbins was going to love this one. Grissom grabbed a swab and gathered up a sample of the paint for Hodges to process. He moved away and began to look over the car more closely.

As with the body, yellow covered the entire driver's seat and the bottom of the steering wheel. He would have to have to flatbed come and haul the car into the lab. This paint was going to have to be removed carefully to see if they could get anything about what happened.

David Phillips walked slowly over, pulling his gurney with him. He could see the yellow blob lying on the cement and was completely baffled. There was no way he was going to keep from losing any of it in transfer. He could only hope Gil and Catherine got everything they could for now.

"Hey, I am here for the pick up," he nodded to the two CSI's as he set his bag down. He pulled out his kit and began his initial scene work. The pen flew over the paper as he took his notes on temperatures and other observations.

Once the body was gone, Catherine walked back over to Grissom, "What are we going to do now?"

"There's nothing really here other than the car. I'll have it towed in and we can work on it there. Maybe I can get a hold of one of the guys as well. You get the truck set, I'll talk to Brass."

She watched the man walk away and sighed. Sleep was calling to her, but the day was in its peak now. Graveyard was full on day now.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The morgue was once again the hot spot of the lab. Doc Robbins almost thought he should start a party service out of the room. Yellow paint was everywhere and he couldn't really say he was too upset about it. A little sunshine amongst the gray clouds was never a bad thing.

It had been easy on this body. The wallet with full identification and credit cards was found in the back pocket of the once blue jeans. Mr. Brett Mueller was only twenty three years old. He had drowned in yellow paint. The entire track of his respiratory system was coated, as well as his stomach. The man had been alive when he met his bright colored ending.

Grissom and Catherine were standing by the other steel table going through the man's property. The clothes were being searched for hair or fibers that didn't belong. Catherine was going through the papers they found in the main pocket of the wallet along with the cash. They were in their own world, away from Doc and Brett.

The needle entered the arm easily and the blood spilled into the vial. Mia was going to love having to pull more overtime to work on this new victim. A sample of the paint had already been dropped off with Hodges to determine if there was anything special to follow with it. Robbins smiled to himself. As weird as it was this last shift, he was looking forward to this new shift.

"I have the blood sample for you to send up. There really isn't much more for me to do unless you can think of something else. I have found no signs of trauma on the upper body, but there were some ligature marks on the wrists. I would say he was tied to keep from getting away. We know the COD and the time was about six hours ago."

Grissom lifted his head to look at the other man, "Not yet. Just don't release the body quite yet. We may need something else later."

The coroner nodded his head and grabbed his cane. He walked over to the phone and dialed the number for David. As strong as he was, he was not going to get Mr. Mueller into a cabinet without some help. The CSI's were too busy to bother with it.

"Hey Gil, take a look at these. I found them in the vic's wallet," Catherine called out.

The supervisor walked over and took the sheets of folded paper in his gloved hand. They were hand written, possibly by the deceased. One was nothing important that Grissom could see, some random numbers. Some were crossed out, others circled. The other had names and a phone number. It looked promising.

"What do you say about making a call?"

Catherine cocked her head in question, "Mine or yours?"

"My honors."

1!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Something was ringing. But what would possibly be ringing in the middle of the desert. Green eyes studied the sand trying to find the source. Warrick took a few steps forward and looked down upon a cactus. The green stalks sticking from the dry ground were shaking with each ring that rang through under the bright sun. He reached down and grabbed at one, but pulled his hand back as it bit into the flesh of his hand. The pain wasn't there and his blood shouldn't be pink. Sand swirled up around him and the ringing got louder.

Warrick jumped up and almost fell from the couch. His eyes were sore and had that crap from sleeping making them feel sticky. The ringing was his cell phone sitting on the wooden table. Moving in almost slow motion, he reached over and grabbed it up.

"Warrick," it was thick, like he had been smoking non-stop.

"It is about damn time you pick up! I have been calling you for awhile now. What is going on?"

Catherine's voice was in full mother mode over the phone and it made Warrick's head hurt a little more. His neck was sore enough as it was, he didn't need any more pain at the moment. He took a moment to collect himself before he made to answer the woman on the other end.

"Hey Cath. Sorry, I fell asleep and didn't hear the phone. I'm crashing on Nick's couch."

"How is he?"

"Broken wrist. Has the whole cast and sling thing going on."

"Shit. What did you tell Grissom?"

Warrick winced, "Nothing yet. I totally didn't think about it."

"Well, that one is all yours. We need you to head back in. I finally got a hold of Greg and he is on his way. Don't wake Nick. Keep him home."

"Easier said than done."

"Just do it. See you soon."

The phone went dead from the other end and Warrick flipped it shut. He stretched out his spine and sat fully upright. The townhouse was quiet so Nick still had to be asleep. Carefully, Warrick stood and found the shoes he had kicked off. Once he was put back together, he crept down the hallway to the bedroom. The floor creaked only once.

Nick looked like he had tried to roll over, but the pillows helped to hold him into place. The other man's face only held a little bit of tension. His brow was crinkled up slightly from pain, but he looked to be resting well. Warrick pulled the door shut as he turned to head to the bathroom. He was going to clean up a little before heading in. Nick was never upset when Warrick or Greg took advantage of his stuff before a new shift.

The water he splashed onto his face helped to wake him even more. He reached up into to the mirror and pulled open the door. Inside sat a toothbrush case. It was his. All three men kept toothbrushes at the other places just in case there would be a late game night or a night like this one. None of them were about having grimy teeth for god only knows how many more hours.

He quickly washed out his mouth and grabbed the spray deodorant. It was only a shame that he would have to wear the same clothes for the new shift. Everyone would think he had a hot date or something. At least Greg wouldn't give him shit for it for once.

His keys were where he left them. Everything was where it should be. The door closed quietly behind him and he walked quickly to his truck. He was probably being timed. A lecture was waiting for him. There always was one when you neglected to answer your phone on the first call.

Traffic was thankfully light and the trip was easy. The receptionist nodded a hello to him since she was busy trying to talk someone down over the phone. Day shift was currently running around, but Warrick ignored them all. He was used to coming in early enough to have to put up with them so it wasn't anything new.

Conrad Ecklie simply glanced at him when he passed the other man. Warrick didn't go out of his way to acknowledge him either. His main focus and goal was finding Catherine and Grissom. Loud footsteps behind him did cause his attention to get sidetracked for a minute.

Greg came running down the hallway right behind him. The new CSI stopped about a foot away and bent forward slightly trying to catch the breath he had lost in his dash. Warrick took in the red face and the heaving body.

"Did you run from home or something?"

"No…just from…my car. Didn't want…to be too…late," it was barely clear between gulps of air.

"So I take it you didn't answer your phone quickly either. We will get reamed out together then man. How bad could it be?"

The two began walking again and it was no time at all before they found themselves in the doorway for the large conference room. Warrick felt a slight chill run down his spine when the two leaning over the table turned to face the new arrivals. Their expressions were blank and unclear.

"It is nice of the two of you to finally join us. We have some big news."

Catherine remained quiet as she watched the two younger men squirm under Grissom's gaze. She never enjoyed it, but she knew it was better than just yelling. Grissom had a way of making you punish yourself so he never really had to. Not that he never did, it was just rare.

"Sorry, I crashed at Nick's and didn't hear my phone."

"He okay? What is the official verdict?" Catherine questioned at once, tone full of motherly concern, but so Grissom would hear as well.

Warrick rubbed his left hand down his face, "Broken bones in his left wrist. Cast with a sling. Doctor wants him out for a week. He was out cold when I left."

"Then we are one man short," Grissom took it in stride, "But let's not worry about that right now. We have a case to discuss."

Greg starred at the floor. He didn't know what to say. Guilt about not answering his phone was pulsing through his entire being and he never had the time to learn to block it down. It took a minute for him to realize Grissom was talking about what had happened since he had left to go visit Nick in the hospital.

"…We found him in his car. Doc confirmed that he drowned in the paint. The time of death places him on our timeline with the other victims. And right before you both arrived, I received the call from Mia. Blood was a match with the toxin. But it was what Catherine found in his wallet that was most interesting."

Catherine nodded her head, "I found some pieces of paper, one with a phone number. It appears that Mr. Mueller is part of some religious group called the Church of Gods, according to the message you get when calling the number."

"Brass is checking it out now as we speak. And Sam in looking into Mr. White's office as well. It seemed odd that his boss never called us back after the message we left so Vega decided to take a trip over there. We are simply waiting on calls from both of them."

"Do we know where the paint came from?"

"Hodges is still working on it as we speak. From the consistency, he believes it was mixed at home. But he will let us know as soon as he has something."

The four stood in silence for a minute. Their minds were wheeling about what might be going on. The only connection they had so far between all of their bazaar murders was the frog toxin. Warrick only hoped that something came down from the detective's searches. He jumped when a cell phone went off.

Grissom grabbed his, "Grissom…Jim, what did you get?"

Catherine rubbed her hands together in anticipation as she waited for her boss to fill them in. The few word answers were not enough to give her context to follow the conversation. Greg had taken a seat and was watching as well. Warrick still stood tall.

Once Grissom hung up the phone, he turned to face his team, "Well, Jim thinks we need to go have a look at this church. I'll drive."

No one dared to argue with their supervisor. They left in silence. Only sounds in the hallway were the rhythmic slapping of their shoes on the tiles.

TBC…


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Glad everyone is enjoying this. I was so worried about the pace and losing people because they thought it was too slow. Thanks for all the reassurances about it. And I promise, something will happen soon that will make everyone happy (well, maybe not since we have to hurt-…oh wait, I can't tell you!) I am having some issues working out Chpt. 18, but I have a feeling I can get it worked out in these next couple of days. Yes, it is going to be long. Hope that is okay with all of you! Thanks again for the reviews. As always, enjoy. I know I am! Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#8**

Brass sat in one of the so-called pews as he waited for the CSI team to arrive. He had already talked to the leader of the church, but had been yet to be impressed by the elderly man. Something was off in this place, but Jim couldn't put a finger on it. He just knew he didn't want to be here alone much longer.

A tanned, blonde haired man walked out of the office door. This guy had arrived after Jim had gotten there and he had seemed upset that he had to wait for his "minister" to talk with him. But Jacob Tenner had forced him to wait. The glare the man sent towards the detective was impressive, but nothing to make him squirm any.

The door to the building slammed shut behind the man and Brass was left alone again. He could still see into the office since the door was still open. Mr. Tenner sat behind the large wooden desk. The man had graying brown hair and a wrinkled face that would scare off a dog. Brass had no idea how he had a group of people that were willing to follow his teachings.

"Captain Brass, you can come back in if you would like," it was a soft voice, but with a hard undertone to it.

With a heavy sigh, Brass pushed himself up off the bench. His back protested, but he pushed the annoyance into the folds of his mind. The office was nothing special. There were a few paintings on the walls, but Brass had no idea what they were supposed to be. He wasn't well versed in the world of the arts. If it didn't have gun powder, he didn't really care.

"So when are your friends arriving? I have some work to get done before I leave for the day."

"They should be here shortly. It won't take too much time as long you give them what they need. I would hate to have to get a warrant involved."

"Yes, as would I. Our little church as been under enough stress over the past year to have this added on top of it. It just shocks me that Brett is dead. He was a new member of the group and had many good insights for others. There was promise with that one."

Brass shifted, "Exactly what religion is your church here, Mr. Tenner?"

"We do not claim one exactly. All are welcome under this roof. After all, the universe is willing to accept many gods and goddesses under its expansive roof so why can't the same thing happen under some wood?"

"So anyone is allowed in? What kind of services do you offer then to something like that?"

Tenner rubbed his throat gently before he continued, "Here we do not offer what others call a mass service. You are allowed to come in at any time of the week and worship at your will. And if there are some who wish to pray with others, we have groups that meet at certain times. So far there are only four main ones, but I expect it to grow over the years. I am in charge of only one, so you will forgive me for not having much to give you."

Brass was not comfortable. This man was nothing like any priest, minister, or rabbi he had ever come into contact with. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to sit with this man and discuss deep issues in life. Glancing down, he caught the face of his watch. The CSI's were moving slowly today it seemed.

"Are you a religious man, Captain Brass?"

"Used to be until I saw what life can do to you. Religion just wasn't enough to cover the lies and uglies of people anymore."

"That is a shame. Maybe you just need a different outlook in life. You are free to come back when you are off and I can help you with this," Tenner moved himself forward in his seat as he spoke.

"Jim would need something else to do that and I think the two words that would work best would be Jack and Daniels."

Both men in the office turned to the doorway and took in the sight of Warrick Brown standing tall. Brass never had been so glad to see him. This Tenner guy was just creepy.

"About time you guys get here. This is Mr. Jacob Tenner, the owner of this establishment. We have just been having a nice little chat and he let me know the place is open for you guys."

The elderly man pushed himself to his feet, "Yes, I am here to help in anyway that I can. And you would be?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm CSI Brown," Warrick held out his hand for the other man to take. Mr. Tenner seemed hesitant at first, but then shyly took hold of it for a quick shake. Warrick didn't think any thing of it. Most people were that way with cops or investigators. "I'm going to head out into the main room and get started."

"I'll join you. Mr. Tenner."

Brass almost walked on Warrick's heels out of the room. He wanted to be as far from that man as possible. Once in the larger room, he could see Grissom and Catherine were standing up by the alter at the front of the room. Well, maybe one couldn't call it an alter. All the was present was a large podium and a black cross.

Greg was standing in the back of the church looking around the entrance to the building. The newer CSI didn't know what he should be looking for here. Grissom hadn't talked to him or Warrick at all in the car ride over. He just knew he didn't want to get in the way of anything and make his bosses madder at him at this point.

Catherine looked back to where she could see Greg standing. There was one open door to her right, where Warrick and Brass had exited. To her left, there were two closed doors. It wasn't a large building so these had to be other offices. She walked over to the first door, a large red oak door. The knob turned easily and the door swung open. Nothing, but a janitor's closet. She looked around, but didn't see anything special about the room.

She left the door open as she moved over to the other one. The knob on this one was no in the nice condition of the other one. It took a little more muscle to twist it open and the door creaked loudly as it opened slowly. Catherine coughed at the musty odor that escaped. Cement stairs greeted her this time.

"Hey Jim, would you come over here."

The captain walked over and looked around her shoulder, "Well, that is interesting. I suspect you want me to go first?"

"You would be correct. After you."

Their footsteps echoed through the small, winding chamber. The air was chilly and damp. Catherine could feel the goose bumps rising on her arms and fought the reaction to rub her hands on them. It had to be a good story down before they came to another doorway. Jim reached for another knob, but found nothing. The door simply pushed open.

It was a simply room, nothing in it, but a few steel folding chairs. The walls were painted black and a light bulb hung from the ceiling in the middle of the white ceiling. Catherine swept her flashlight beam around the room, but there was nothing. It looked like a very disturbing meeting room.

"Well, Catherine. I don't know about you, but I am ready to head back up."

She hung back a little as he moved a few more steps back up, "Yeah…nothing here."

Warrick was waiting for them at the top when they emerged again. Catherine simply shook her head and the man turned back to face the head of the room where Grissom was looking over some sort of book. Mr. Tenner had come out of his office and was sitting on one of the wooden benches in the room. He was watching Grissom as well.

"See anything in there that you like?"

"It is interesting I must say. What myths are these?"

The wrinkles in the face tightened as he pulled his mouth up into a smile, "You may call them myths, but they are truths of an older time. One more innocent than ours. People took those beliefs and used them to shape their lives. Many answers came from them. But if you must insist on making them stories of so called mythology, they are a collection of ancient Greek, Roman, and Celtic."

"Do you only have books on multiple gods or do you have something based on the newer single god religions?"

"We carry the Bible and the Koran as well. You can find every edition possible on the shelves to your left. As I told the Captain, we are open to everyone and carry everything necessary to do so."

Grissom nodded and studied the aging priest, "We are going to need a roster of all your members."

"That will not be an issue. I have a fairly recent one on my desk. If you excuse me for a moment."

Everyone in the room watched him shuffle away. Grissom took a breath and walked away from the book towards his team. They were waiting for his word on what to do. Nothing in this place connected with any of their murders. He could only hope something on the member list would pop out at them. Mr. Tenner came back with a few sheets of paper in his hands. He handed them over to the lead CSI and they took their leave.

Once the group was surrounding Brass' car and the SUV, Grissom turned to them, "Alright, lets get back to the lab and take a look at these names. Nothing at this building pointed to any of our murders, but let us hope we get a few name matches."

Brass nodded his good bye and left the scene. The CSI's didn't talk on the way back to the lab. Each had different thoughts running through their brains on what that place was.

!#$&()!#$&&()!#$&()+

Detective Sam Vega walked through the large office building following behind a tiny, black haired woman. He always hated these places. It was something he never understood. People working behind little walls that were removable. Forcing their worlds into an area no larger than forty square feet by hanging pictures on every available surface possible.

The room was dressed up in black and grays. It was nothing, but depressing to the officer. The woman, Emily, finally stopped at a row of glass stabs and doors. More money meant having more room and a view in this accountant firm.

"This is Mr. White's office. It hasn't been opened since he left on his last shift. But you wanted to see his boss didn't you? Right this way."

Vega took a quick look into the darken space. Nothing was too visible other than a large desk and a few chairs. He quickened his footsteps to catch up and followed Emily through a slim hallway to another row of large offices. The last door was their destination.

"He is waiting for you. Go right in. Have a good day."

Emily left him alone facing the large object in front of him. He knocked and was called in by a deep bass voice. Mr. Roger Ratcliff was a tall man with dark hair with few gray streaks running through it. The man wore an impressive blue suit with a silk tie. He didn't move when Vega walked in and shut the door behind him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ratcliff. I am Detective Sam Vega with the Las Vegas Police Department. I am here to ask you a few questions about an employee of yours."

The man coughed and straightened his shoulders, "Yes, I figured someone would be stopping by."

"And why would you think something like that?"

"Well, I arrived late today and by the time I got my messages, I knew someone would be interested in my lack of response. My uncle was on the police force in New York City. I know of the lack of trust from cops."

"So you know I am here about Ralph White. Can you tell me about him?"

"Good man, works hard. He is going to go far in this company. I was shocked to see he hadn't arrived yet this morning, but I didn't ask questions. A man is allowed to be ill," Mr. Ratcliff coughed again, "He is ill, right?"

"No, he was found dead in a hot tub this morning. He is currently in the coroner's office at the CSI lab. I am here to see if you had noticed anything going on with him."

"Nothing. He always arrived on time, left on time. His work was always done perfectly. His clients loved to deal with him. The women thought he was a real charmer. And from what I could tell from talking with him, he loved his wife. They were looking to have a baby soon."

"Are there any other employees that would be jealous? Have something against the man?"

Mr. Ratcliff starred straight at Vega, "Not that I know of. He worked well with everyone. No one complained about him and he earned his promotion on his own. He never worked on any projects with anyone else. And he never fought with anyone on these grounds."

Vega nodded his head. There really wasn't much else he could do here without a warrant or a CSI present. The man in front of him seemed genuine enough. He stood from his chair and straightened out his jacket.

"I thank you for your time. Here is a card with a number where you can reach me at," Vega handed a small white card to the outreached hand, "I will be in touch if there are any more questions about this. We might need access to Mr. White's office at some point."

"I will keep it closed until you get back in touch with me. I hope you have a safe drive back to the station Mr. Vega."

The detective nodded and left the office at a brisk pace. He knew his way out and was eager to get out. The sunshine was nice on his face once he left the oppression of deadlines and numbers behind him. He needed to get a hold of Brass.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Pain and stiffness were the first things that registered in Nick's mind when he woke up. It took a moment for him to remember why he felt these things. He gently moved his body to the side and pushed the pillows that encased him out of the way. It took some effort, but he got upright and groaned. His left arm twanged with pain and his vision went white for a minute.

Once the room was back in focus and in the correct colors, Nick pushed himself to his feet. Nature was screaming and he had no desire to peel off wet clothes. The walk to the bathroom wasn't bad at all. Getting his pants down was a task, but he managed. Feeling kind of gross, he by passed the hand wash.

His townhouse was empty other than a note from Warrick. The other man had to head back into work. Nick felt frustration and anger course through his veins. He knew what the doctor had said to him, but he didn't care. Warrick had no right to leave him behind when this case was his as well. He refused to be left out of this.

Nick grabbed at the bottles on his counter top. He read the labels and found the one that would take away the pain. With a glass of water in his hand, he took one. Driving was going to be hard enough, he didn't want to be drugged into a stupor as well. The bottle fit well into the pocket of his jacket. He looked down at himself and decided he didn't care what he looked like. But he was going to stop off back in the bathroom again. Had to brush his teeth.

TBC…should just tie the man down….


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **It seems I distracted everyone from the clue in the last chapter by my comment at the end. Hmm, well, I give a name in this one! We are beginning to get closer to who-dun-it. Hope you all enjoy and I will see you all again soon! Promise! Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#9**

Sheets of paper were spread out all over the top of the table. The names and numbers were nothing special. The White's were no where on any of these lists. Neither had ever gone to the Church of Gods. Warrick held his head in his hands as he rested his eyes. Greg had retired to the couch and currently was hiding his head behind a pillow. They had gotten the list job when they arrived back at the lab while the senior CSI's went off with Brass.

Warrick groaned as he rubbed his hands across his face harder than probably necessary. Nothing was making sense in any of this and he thought he was going to scream. They were heading into another early afternoon for the graveyard crew. It had been awhile since Warrick had pulled a triple. Well, it wouldn't be a full triple, but enough to be annoying.

Opening his eyes wide, he looked down at the papers again. These people had to be crazy. Next to their names it listed their religions. He couldn't figure out why these people would choose to go listen to that elderly man talk about something he probably didn't know much about instead of going to a correct institution that would teach correctly.

His grandmother had forced him to go to church when he was younger and he never really minded it. He just didn't have the time or the energy to take it back up again. Plus, churches all seemed to be about politics and money now anyways. Maybe some day he would think about it once again.

Warrick was about to grab a new sheet when footsteps in the hallway attracted his attention away. He turned in his chair to face a confused looking Vega, "Hey Sam, what's up?"

"Hey Warrick. I was just looking for Grissom or Brass. I just got back from going to see Mr. White's boss. Nothing from him."

"Hmm, too bad. We aren't getting anything off these lists we got from the church either. This is going no where fast."

Vega looked over at Greg before he walked into the room and took a seat. His head was beginning to pound. He needed to go home and get some sleep, but not until after he gave his report to Jim. If the two CSI's could hang out in this break room, then he could take a breather in there as well.

"I have heard of that place before," Vega grabbed a sheet off the pile, "Nothing good from it though. Heard rumors of drug deals, prostitution, and cults coming from there. But only one victim is connected with it right?"

"Yeah, the last one. Mr. Mueller had the phone number in his wallet and the names are matches to other members."

Warrick watched the smaller man run his eyes over the names, but they didn't seem to get any reaction out of him. More footsteps sounded out in the hallway, but this time Warrick didn't take the time or energy to turn to look at the new arrival. But from the reaction on Vega's face, he really should have.

"Nick!"

"Hey Sam," Nick walked slowly into the room, avoiding making eye contact with either Warrick or Greg who had sat up on the couch.

"What the fuck are you doing here? You are supposed to be at home, you moron!"

Nick eased himself into the chair next to Warrick, but still didn't look him in the eyes, "I decided to come to work. Better than sitting at home bored out of my mind."

Warrick's mouth gaped open and closed for almost a full minute, "You are _supposed_ to be bored out of you mind at home! You broke two bones in you wrist! You need to rest, at home!"

"I'm not going to do anything Warrick. I just figured I could come in and push some paper around. No field work. I am not that stupid."

"Nick, are you sure this is a good idea?" Greg pondered from his seat.

"I'll be fine Greg. I promise I'll leave if I start to feel under the weather."

"Grissom is not going to be too happy about this."

Nick didn't say another word to anyone else in the room. He didn't care what they had to say right now. The papers in front of him on the table beckoned him to them and he picked one up. It was a list of names and religions, from where, he didn't know. But something from about the third of the way up the list caught his attention.

"Hey Sam, did you take a look at this list here?"

The detective finally moved since the arrival of the Texan, "No, why?"

"Tell me if this name looks familiar?"

Vega reached over and took the offered paper. His eyes scanned the area to where Nick had pointed and felt them get wider. That name was one he had the opportunity to learn during the past few hours.

"I say, this one does. It is interesting, is it not?"

Warrick exchanged a look of confusion with Greg, "What are you two talking about?"

"The name, Charlie Johnson. He is the father of one of the boys that found the mauled body at the skateboard park. His boy, Miguel Johnson, was the quiet one. The guy was intense."

Vega nodded as he listened to Nick, "Interesting find. I think we may need to swing by his place and have a talk."

"So, we have one dead body and one father of a witness on a roster for a church that has weird thing happening in it. I don't think this is as odd as it should be," Warrick thought out loud.

"What isn't that odd?" Brass asked as he let himself in the break room. He had been walking past when he noticed everyone seemed to be in there. They all looked like they were getting into something pretty intense.

"Oh, Nick found a connection on this list. When we talked with those kids from the mauling case, one of the kids had a father named Charles Johnson. Well, his name is right on this list here. He is under the Roman Catholic religion, but he still goes to this church."

Brass nodded his head, "Visit?"

"Visit. Who wants to go with?"

Vega was looking straight at Nick, but knew that probably wasn't going to happen. The boys had been open and talkative with the CSI, but if Grissom found out that he took an injured man to a possible suspect's house, he would never hear the end of it. Maybe Greg would be up to it. He wasn't too old and kids seemed to like him well enough. But Brass talked before he had the chance to.

"Well, I know this isn't going to be my best idea and Grissom will probably have my head, but I say we take Nick with us. You said the kids were comfortable with him and I think we should keep that up…"

Warrick jumped out of his chair, "No way! That is not a good idea at all."

"…and I think Warrick should come along for the ride," he finished as if Warrick had never said a word in protest."

The tall CSI clamped his mouth shut. He knew Nick would be best not to keep talking with that family since he really should be at home resting. But there was one part of his brain that thought this wasn't ridiculous. It was just a couple bones in his wrist. He wasn't going to be going to a boxing match or something. Talking to a family would do nothing to stress his arm. It was still in the sling anyways.

"Alright, but I'm _not_ talking to Grissom about this one!"

Brass actually smiled, "I'll do it. Meet you guys outside."

Nick smiled as well and stood to his feet carefully. This was a stupid idea, but if it was going to help end these murders, then he was willing to do anything. His smile grew when he finally looked over at Warrick. The other man was fuming, but holding it in well. This was going to be interesting. It was a good thing he had actually gotten some sleep.

Both Vega and Greg knew something was about to go down between the other two so they made their exit without words. Vega felt like running out and Greg was off to find Catherine to go over some stuff. They didn't want to be within ear shot either.

Warrick shut the door behind them, "What are you trying to do here Nick?"

"Nothing, just going with to have a talk with a man connected to a crazy church. I am not going to do anything that will force me to use my arm. I promise."

"Why do you always do this? You should be at home resting! Why do you never listen to anyone else when they tell you something that will help you out in the long run?"

"I don't need to stay home for this. That doctor can tell me to rest all she wants, but I don't have to follow her instructions!"

"Well, what if I asked you to stay home and rest?" Warrick questioned softly.

Nick took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "I don't need to be told what to do. I can take care of myself."

"I know that man, but some of us would like to help you out. You know, being strong is not only about being on your own and taking care of your own shit. Being strong means you have the ability to get help when you need it. I don't care what you say, but I did this to you and I am going to help you through it. It may just be a broken wrist, but I don't care!"

This was a fight Nick knew he wasn't going to win. Warrick was once again in his full brother mode and there was little to do about it. He just hoped he would be able to handle this little trip without wanting to kill the other man too much.

"Fine, I'm sorry. I promise to take it easy and won't do anything stupid. I trust you to have my back and keep me in line," he grinned a little.

"Yeah, I'll kick your ass into line, you can count on it. Now let's get outside before they leave without us. I don't know how to get to that park."

They walked out of the break room in silence, but they both knew this wasn't over. It would be something they would deal with later. Vega was standing beside his car when the approached. He wore a big grin.

"Brass is getting his ears chomped off by your boss. He should be here any second now."

Sure enough, the door swung open and Brass marched out. He had pulled on his sunglasses and kept his face downward. Nick felt guilty for making the other man face Grissom over this. The CSI should have been the one to go in and talk with his boss, not the detective.

"Look Brass, I can go in and talk to Grissom if…"

"Hey Nicky, just get in the car, will ya. Nothing I love more than watching that man get mad. Makes him more human if you ask me," Brass smirked as he walked to the driver's door.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine Willows didn't have a smile for Greg when he joined her. The younger man sat down in the open chair without any questions. The file folders were already open. Greg grabbed a hold of one. The blonde woman smiled at him then, when he wasn't looking.

"You and I get to go over everything and try to fill in any and all holes that might be possible. Mostly those tire tracks at the White's house, the dogs from the mauling, and the Furber hot tub."

"Well, the tires were unidentifiable by brand, but the size proved to be a large pick-up or a conversion van. The tread wasn't very clear, shows signs of extensive use. And it has nothing to do with Mr. Mueller since he was found in his own car. It is a dead end at this point.

"Okay, so that is nothing we are going to be able to run with right now," Catherine grabbed another sheet of paper, "Lets think about the dogs. We didn't get anything from the search that Vega did and none of the dogs he looked at had any signs of attacking a person. He took the city veterinarian along with him to do the checks. And the few houses that owned more than one Pincher or Shepard kept them either in the house or in locked kennels outside."

"What signs were they looking for?" Greg looked confused. He hadn't heard anything from the mauling case and what was going on with the searches.

"Robbins found a tooth in the leg bone so they were looking for a dog missing some teeth and possible blood in the fur where the owner missed it. Nothing with any of them. All pampered pooches,"

"And still no name on the boy?"

"No, it is as if he simply appeared from no where. Nothing is coming up on any of the missing reports. I have no idea what to say about him."

Greg nodded. It was odd that there was no one looking out for the boy. He was someone's son, possibly a brother. No one ever had no one. There was always someone looking out for another person, even if it is just a friend.

"Did you hear anything back from Hodges about what you found in the tub, Greg?"

"Yeah, but nothing that will help. All the hair was either from Mr. White or two other unknown donors, but with the amount of each sample, the owners would be most likely. The only things we have from the tub that are unusual are the mud samples found at the bottom and the watch Nick sat on. The mud was a match to the samples we collected from the yard of the White's house. But no hits on the watch."

"Great, so these holes we had to fill are still wide open. And I am not even going to touch the frogs at this point."

The younger CSI watched his superior lean forward to rest her head in her hands. This was a tough one and Greg knew Catherine was going a hard third shift with no rest what so ever. She was getting to the end of her rope.

"So, did you hear about how bad Grissom took it with Nick?"

"Of course Greg. I was in the room when you guys filled us in, remember?" Catherine glanced up through half closed eyes.

"What? Oh no, when he came in and left with Brass."

Catherine stood up fast enough to push her chair a few feet back behind here, "He was back in? When?"

But Greg didn't have a chance to say a word as she already took off through the door. He jumped up as quickly as he could and caught sight of a flash of blonde hair whipping around the corner up the hallway to his left. Catherine was on her way into Grissom's office. Greg didn't want to be anywhere near for that conversation. The CSI turned and headed in the other direction, towards trace. Hodges always needed to be bothered. Greg smiled at the prospect.

TBC…


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Told ya I would be back soon! But it is only because it will be a good few days before I get something else out. Thought I would give you all something for the holiday here in the US tomorrow. Hope this chapter lives up to what you are hoping for! Oh the layers! Let me know you thoughts about what is happening! I am curious to know what everyone thinks. Have a great Thanksgiving and I will see everyone either Sun or Mon. Adios!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#10**

The Johnson house was simply painted, nothing standing out. Nick couldn't help, but think he had seen thousands of similar houses back in Dallas. It was a home of the lower middle class. A few of his childhood friends had houses that looked like these. He was never allowed to visit with them for too long according to his parents.

Vega led the way up the small path through the wild grass and weeds sprouting from the brown soil. It had been decided on the way out here that Vega and Nick would be first to the door. And then once they were in, Nick would talk with Miguel on his own. Brass wanted to be present to talk with the parents and needed Warrick there to observe.

The smaller detective rapped his knuckles on the green wood of the door and the four men stood under the sun waiting for a response. It only took a few moments for a small, petite woman to answer the door. Her hair was black, her eyes large and brown. Her greeting was heavy with a Mexican accent. Nick had seen her at the station before, but it still shocked him that a man like Charlie Johnson would choose a woman of a different race. The man just didn't seem like the type.

Vega smiled sweetly to her, "Hello again, Mrs. Johnson. We met at the station earlier about your son."

Veronica Johnson smiled back, "Oh yes, Detective Vega. Do you have more questions for Miguel?"

"We do. I brought Nick Stokes with me, he helped me in the interview with your son. And Captain Brass and Warrick Brown are here to help me ask some questions with you and your husband."

"Of course, come in. Please come in," Mrs. Johnson waved them in.

Warrick walked in close behind Nick and took a good look at the home. It was well decorated and there was plenty of modern art up on the walls. The inside was defiantly a contrast to the outside. It seemed a little odd to the CSI. This was one odd little family.

Charlie Johnson was sitting on at the dinner table in the kitchen when his wife herded everyone into the room. Their son was pointing at something in a large book, a large frown on his little face. Both immediately looked up to see the new arrivals. Brass couldn't help, but smile when he recognized this as the man from that church. Someone somewhere really liked him.

"Well good day, Mr. Johnson. It is good to see you again," Vega forced a smile onto his face with the pleasantries, "And hello Miguel."

"What the fuck are you doing at my house?"

The blonde haired man stood tall in front of the other men. His wife shrunk herself into the corner and was waving for her son to come by her. Brass shuffled closer to his colleague and pushed Nick by Warrick. The taller CSI placed one hand on Nick's shoulder to keep him close.

"We are here to ask you a couple of questions. There is no need to get out of hand, especially with your son present," Brass huffed out at the man, "Now, if you and your wife stay here in the kitchen, Nick is going to watch Miguel for us while we do this. No need for him to be here."

Nick felt a little uncomfortable when Mr. Johnson's glare focused on his face. He stood his own ground, but didn't return the glare with one of his own. Suddenly, the other man's eyes dropped down, to look at his arm. Nick could have sworn something flashed through those eyes, but it was gone before he could even register it.

The Texan smiled at the young boy and held out his good hand for him to take. Miguel hesitated only for a moment and with a final glance at his parents, he took Nick's hand. No one tried to stop the CSI from leading the boy out through the back door out into the backyard. Charlie Johnson only returned himself heavily to his chair.

Now that the boy was gone, Warrick moved to lean against the wall next to the refrigerator to watch the proceedings. Veronica moved to stand behind her husband and rested her hands on top of his shoulders. They were trying to pull of the perfect family unit. Warrick smiled inside at the thought of Brass ripping it down, brick by brick.

But it was Vega that started things off, "We have questions for the two of you about a religious group that you are part of. We have records of your attendance to the Church of Gods over on Owen Avenue. Could you explain your part in the church to us?"

"We go there, so what! There is nothing wrong with it."

"There is no need to get defensive Mr. Johnson. We are just a little curious on why a Roman Catholic such as yourself would choose this as his church of choice."

Johnson coughed and rubbed a hand across his throat, "It is a second church for us. We still go and worship every Sunday at our normal church. I got involved through a friend."

"What about you Mrs. Johnson? Same friend?"

"I…my father worked for Mr. Tenner. He helped me through some rough times. He introduced me to Charles," her eyes were locked on the table top in front of her husband as she spoke softly.

Warrick watched them both closely. The husband was clenching his hands into fists and then releasing them as he talked. He maintained eye contact with Vega the entire time, but he wasn't facing the officer fully. The wife was trembling slightly and seemed to be asking for approval through her tone, making sure she was in the right. Something was not right with this couple.

"What's your profession, Mr. Johnson?"

"Why do you need to know that Detective?"

"Just curious," Vega smiled.

"I manage a launder mat."

"Do either of you know one Brett Mueller? He was a member of your little church," Brass decided he wanted a piece of this as well.

The couple stiffened slightly up at the mention of the name. Warrick could almost feel his ears perk up to attention at the subtle movement. Mr. Johnson once again coughed, "Never liked that little punk. He was always such an asshole. Did he finally get caught for the drugs?"

"No, sorry, but he was found dead in his car earlier today. Tell me Mr. Johnson, do you own any yellow paint?"

This ruffled the man's feathers too much, "There is no reason for you to be asking me these questions and I don't have to answer any more of your questions. You are going to have to go get a warrant to search my house. I want you all to leave. Now!"

Vega nodded his head and faced Brass. There was no way they were going to force this guy in to doing anything and they couldn't search the property for yellow paint. It was going to be a royal pain in the ass with this jerk. They just needed to get Nicky and the cops were out of there.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Miguel pulled Nick by his hand out into the warm sunshine. The Texan closed his eyes and raised his face upward at the sensation. His arm had begun to throb again and was accepting to any distractions possible. The young boy in front of him was mumbling something, but Nick couldn't quite figure out what it was.

There were several plastic toys scattered across the dusty landscape. A once upon a time sand box was overgrown with weeds, the wooden walls cracked and shattered. It was nothing, but a poor boy's playground and it made Nick feel a little guilty. He may have been the youngest in his family, but he always had nice things surrounding him for entertainment.

The brown haired boy began almost skipping next to Nick's side. He was excited about something. It made Nick smile. He turned to look downward at the sudden bundle of energy.

"What's up Miguel? Feet on fire?"

"No, just…wanna see something?"

Nick laughed, "Sure kid."

Miguel's face lit up almost to the point of blinding. His sudden burst of speed caused Nick to have to jog to follow the boy towards the back of the garage. The Texan kept the laughter to himself at the situation. Grissom would kill him if he found out that Nick, while injured, went off running after a little boy in a possible suspect's backyard. But he was told to keep an eye on the child.

"Come! Come! It is here!"

The boy was now hopping in place by the corner of the garage, pointing down at the ground. Nick put on his most interested face with the wide, curious eyes and small grin. This seemed to make Miguel even more excited.

It was a small, metal bowl filled with mucky, thick water. Nick puckered out his lips and pulled his brow together as he looked down at it. Glancing over at Miguel and his glistening eyes, Nick lowered himself down onto one knee so he could look closer. Being only about two feet away now, he could sudden see movement within the brown water. His head cocked to the side as he followed the little paths being paved in the liquid.

"What is it?"

"I caught them in the creek! Tadpoles!"

Nick reached a hand into the water and scooped up one of the little creatures. They were tadpoles from the Western Toad. Nothing special about them. You could find them all over the Western part of the United States.

"Hey Miguel, how do you know how to take care of these so well? Does a friend have any toads or frogs that you have seen?"

Miguel scratched the top of his head as he pondered the answer, "No, I just gathered up some water from the creek and brought them back with me yesterday. My momma doesn't know I did it yet. I don't think she will let me keep them."

"I once brought home a cat I found on the way home from school. I tried to hide it in my room from the rest of my family, but my mom was smart. She found it right away. I got to keep him."

"You think I can keep these?" Miguel looked up at the CSI with hope in his eyes.

"You will have to ask. It is always better not to hide things from your parents."

They both watched the small amphibian fall back into the bowl from Nick's hand. He wiped the grime of on his pant leg. The pain in his arm didn't bother him too much anymore. Kneeling in the dirt with Miguel was not something he would have pictured for his day, but he had to admit, it had appeal. But he was ripped from the moment by the sudden clanging of fence wire and vicious dog barks.

Nick looked up to his right, behind the garage. There was a crude kennel constructed there. Inside, two very dirty, very pissed off Shepards. "Hey Miguel, are those your dogs?"

"No, they belong to my uncle. He brought them over two days ago. They scare me though," Miguel moved closer to Nick as he looked up at the dogs.

"Yeah, I can see how that could happen. Do you know if they have left at any time since they have been here?"

The boy simply shrugged. Nick felt the urge to jump away, but forced himself to stay low and study the dogs. Neither had been bathed in what had to be years, their hair was ratted together all over their bodies. He couldn't see if any teeth were missing since they were slamming their mouths open and shut too quickly to follow. But, the opening to the kennel showed signs of recent disturbance.

"Okay Miguel, we should head back up towards the house now."

Nick took the small boy's hand in his this time and led the way back towards the back door. He was unprepared for Mr. Johnson to come barreling out of it at him first.

"What the fuck are you doing with my son!" the man's face was red.

The Texan rose his cast a little, completely confused, "Excuse me?"

But the man didn't bother to explain. He simply threw himself forward and collided with Nick. The impact caused Nick to slam back onto the ground, his entire body jarring. Johnson pulled back and punched the CSI hard in the jaw. The hit caused both men in pain, but Nick was seeing stars.

Warrick didn't let another moment pass by. He jumped around the two detectives in his way and plowed into Mr. Johnson. The blonde haired man didn't have a chance in hell with the tall, dark CSI grabbing him. Warrick used his weight to throw the man a few feet away from his friend. He glared down at him for a minute before he turned back to Nick.

Miguel had beaten him to Nick's side, "Are you okay?"

Hearing the panic in the small voice and seeing the small hand tap Nick on the cheek made Warrick literally slide to his knees by the down man, "Nicky? Hey man."

Nick could hear the voices above him, but paid them no mind right now. He was busy lifting his hand to his jaw and testing out the tender area. Nothing major, but it was going to leave one hell of a bruise. Pushing himself up, with a hand from Warrick, Nick managed to sit upright.

Brass and Vega were standing over the other fallen man. Nick reached out and placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder, "I'm okay kid."

The boy nodded, but his lips kept quivering. Nick observed him and could see the fear in those eyes. Something made the boy afraid of his father. He didn't have chance to say more to Miguel. Warrick had pushed him towards his mother so he could help his friend to his feet. Once he was standing he could hear that Brass was threatening to arrest the man for attacking a law officer.

"Nick, you gonna be okay, bro?"

That sad, pitiful look was back on Warrick's face. Nick groaned and moved away from him. He wanted away from those looks. But the barking brought him up short once again. His heels threw up dirt as he spun on them to face the taller man.

"Dogs! There are dogs!"

"Um, you sure you're okay man? There're no dogs here."

"Yeah man. There are two dogs behind the garage! I couldn't tell if they were the ones that mauled that boy, but man, they could be!"

It didn't take much more for Brass to start walking and go check this out. He left Johnson behind with Vega watching over him. The captain was itching to take this guy down and book him. If there were dogs, that would be enough, no warrant needed. The detective walked around the corner of the garage with steady footsteps. Sure enough, there were too very mangy dogs going nuts trying to at him.

Nick remained up on his feet with some help from Warrick. His arm was back on the verge of exploding from his body. And now he had a throbbing jaw to go along with everything. But knowing that they had found a pair of dogs that could possibly be the murder weapon they were looking for made it all worth it. He looked over at Brass as the man returned to them.

"Well, I have to say. Those are so really angry dogs. I'm going to call Animal Services and have them come down. Have to have their dental x-rays taken."

Mrs. Johnson ushered her small Miguel back into the house once Vega pulled out the hand cuffs. It was not an easy task to pull the blonde man's hands behind his back, but the detective finally managed it. Charlie Johnson huffed his frustration as Vega began the "Rights" ritual.

"Come on Nick, let's head back to the car," Warrick nudged at Nick before he turned and walked away, knowing his friend would follow.

Nick took one last look at the backdoor of the house. Inside was a scared pair of people and the cause was standing right in front of him. He suddenly felt very old, tired. Aches broke out in areas he didn't even know had muscles to ache. It was harder to follow Warrick back to the car than he thought.

TBC…


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hope y'all had a great holiday weekend and didn't lose any limbs during that mad shopping rush! I had to work it and let me tell ya, I hate retail with a passion unbeaten by anything. Big thanks to my four reviewers on the last chapter. You guys helped me out with how things are going. I really appreciate the time you took to write a little something for me. But now, onto the new chapter. Enjoy as always! Thanks again! Later!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#11**

The scene could have been out of one of those Western movies his father made him watch as a kid. All that was missing from this death march was the tolling bells in the background and the teary eyed women with their handkerchiefs. It was the longest steps Nick had ever taken on his way back through the glass doors of the crime lab.

The two polices officers did nothing more than kick the two criminalists out of the car and sped off. And Warrick didn't seem to be in the mood to take a hit anymore. His step was loaded, but not as bad as Nick's. Grissom was going to know there had been trouble on this house run. Even without the blossoming bruise on Nick's face, the looks each man wore would be enough.

Even though his head was lowered forward and his eyes locked on the floor passing under his feet, Nick could feel the stares and glances of the other people in the lab. He wanted the tiles to open up underneath his feet and swallow him whole. This was not going to be pretty.

Warrick took the lead once he noticed Nick's steps getting slower and slower. They could see the opening to the room that held their boss. Deep down he didn't want to go in there either, but he wasn't going to leave Nick alone in the lion's den. He wasn't that heartless when it came to friends. But he didn't look back or hesitate when he walked through the doorway.

Their boss didn't bother looking up at either man, "Sit."

Nick stood in the hallway just outside the office looking very much like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator. Hell would be a more pleasant place than this one. But, he took a deep breath to pass over the panic and walked in. Warrick was already seated when he took the other chair.

It was silent in the room. Grissom was still looking over the paper in his hands. The two younger men sat as still as they could waiting for some sort of direction. Nick resisted the urge to rub at the white cast on his arm. He didn't want to make any sudden movements.

"Nick, you're suspended for one week. Warrick, you're out of the field and in the lab for ten days."

Neither man was ready for that. It was clipped, simple. It was Grissom all the way down. He still hadn't looked up to gauge either reaction. That didn't matter to him. They were not going to get away with this type of behavior.

"But Gil! Nothing happened. In fact, we might have the dogs used in the mauling case," Nick couldn't sit still any longer.

That was enough for Grissom to look up at his two CSI's. His eyes narrowed when he finally took in their appearances. They both looked exhausted and beaten down. In fact, Nick looked like had had taken a real one. Grissom swore there had been no bruise on the man's face when they headed to the hospital earlier.

"Nothing happened," it was monotone, but sarcastic, "Since when do bruises form from out of nothing?"

Nick couldn't stop his hand from rising to his jaw, "Nothing _major_ happened then."

Grissom put the paper down and grabbed the bridge of his nose. These two men were going to be the death of him. Not the job, the stress, or even Ecklie. But these two men, cowering in their chairs in front of him.

"I want a full report on what happened. Then I want you out of here Nick. You are not allowed back in these doors for a full seven days. Once you do come back, you are lab only until I say. Warrick, you are to report to Mia."

It was final. Warrick nodded slowly and stood. He waited as Nick struggled to get his frame up as well before he walked out of the office. Without asking Nick, he headed to the break room so they could start that report. As much as he hated doing lab work, Warrick didn't want to anger his boss anymore than he already had.

"So, what do we want to say?"

"What can we really? I mean hell, nothing really happened and we got the damn dogs! I swear, nothing is ever good enough for that man."

Nick kicked the cabinet door that was closest to him. He always hated being talked to like he was a child and was really sick of having it always come from Gil Grissom. No matter what he did or what leads he may have gotten, he always did something wrong in the eyes of that man. It was getting old, quick. Anger made him feel even worst and more tired, but he wouldn't let it stop him from expressing it.

"Fuck this shit. I am not going to fill out a damn thing! He can hunt me down if he wants, but since I've been suspended, I don't have to do anything work related. Sorry bro, but I'm gone."

Nick held his broken arm close to his body as he stormed from the room. He left a bewildered Warrick, but he found he really didn't care. Things had finally caught up to him from the beginning of this case and it was squeezing the shit out of him. Nick needed to get out of here. He needed to get away.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine Willows stood with her back tight against the wall. The dogs may have been sedated, but she wasn't about to take any chances. Neither was cute and cuddly. They were a step away from being full blow Cujo. She wasn't in the mood to deal with this. This was supposed to be her time to fume at Grissom. He sent her away just when she was getting to the good vocabulary.

The city veterinarian was working quickly, but Catherine could still feel her impatience taking over. Both dogs were strapped to tables with their tongues pulled out to the side, a tube in their throat. The tiny man was currently taking records down of both canines' teeth. He had already pumped their stomachs and placed the contents in glass jars on the table. Catherine could feel her fingers tighten when he made that damn clicking noise.

Dr. Steven Wellsbry walked slowly between the two animals. He had nothing to rush off to. This was an important case and he wasn't about to be the one to blame when the murderer walked because of his examination of the dogs. The blonde woman behind him was easy to ignore, but he could feel her tension.

"I am almost done here, Mrs. Willows."

"_Ms_. Willows, please."

"Sorry. I only have to take a few more notes on the teeth and do a comb over. Should only be about ten more minutes. Why don't you go and get some coffee?"

She could feel the blow off, "Sure. I'll be back."

Catherine kept her back to the wall as she left. The animal clinic was white and clean, but didn't give off the vibes that most human hospitals did. It didn't mean she wanted to be on one of their tables any faster than the other. The break room for the help was on her left, two doors up. Only three other people were present in the building today, but the room was clear.

Taking a large cup of the brown brew, Catherine sat down in the purple plastic chair and rested her eyes for a moment. Once she was done here, she was going to have to go to the police station and meet up with Brass. Charlie Johnson was going to have some questions to answer. Grissom thought she should do it since the guys were out. Those thoughts made her mad again.

This was a big case and with Sara still gone, they needed everyone else. Even with his broken arm, Nick could help out. Catherine had heard what the doctor had said, but didn't really think it was necessary. She had broken her arm when she was younger and was ready to get back to things less than forty eight hours later. Nick didn't need a week. He probably couldn't handle a week.

And losing Warrick to the lab was not fair. He was good at the work that it took to be a technician, but he was much better as a CSI. This was going to hurt the case more than Grissom had to realize. It was just down to him, her, and Greg. She loved that kid, but he wasn't the former Vegas Gambler or the Texan Stud.

The coffee gave new fuel to her views. Catherine hadn't realized how much time had passed until she heard the door open. Dr. Wellsbry walked in and sat in the other chair. He wore a small smile. It was encouraging.

"Well, according to what your coroner found and what is present with these dogs, I would have to say they are the ones. You will want to check the stomach contents to be sure, but I would guarantee that it will contain cholesterol. I will hold the two until I receive word from you. Then I will follow procedures for cases like these."

Catherine cleared out her throat, "Thanks Doctor. That is good news indeed. I will just grab those jars. I have to meet with Captain Brass down at the station and attempt to learn more about those two beasts."

"Sounds good to me. I will let you know if anything else comes up with either animal. Good luck with this Ms. Willows."

The man left and Catherine downed the rest of her coffee. She stood and brushed her hands down the front of her shirt. Her hair moved from the breath she released. Catherine didn't want to waste any more time. This man had some things to answer for.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The man behind the one way mirror was too damn relaxed. It was pissing Jim off more than it should. He wanted nothing more than to run in there and throttle the smooth smile off his face. News traveled fast and he heard what their trip had cost Warrick and Nick. He didn't feel bad about it, just pissed off. They were doing their jobs and got kicked in the ass for it.

He was waiting to for Catherine to arrive with information about those two demons they dragged from behind that garage. Vega was looking into the so called owner of them. Brass had a feeling nothing was going to turn up on that one. The kid had said they were his uncle's dogs. That was interesting to the captain.

All he wanted at this point was for Mr. Johnson to spill the beans on the dogs and how he got them to do that to that poor kid. He had a dog when he was a kid and all he could remember of it was that it was lazy and scared shitless about everything. It took a certain type of person to train a killer dog. Brass only hoped that person was the one currently examining his nails. He wanted to hit him.

These thoughts were halted by the new arrival, "I sure hope you have something good to tell me Catherine. I need some good news."

"Well, how about the knowledge we have the weapon for the mauling," Catherine smiled.

"Good. Lets go in and kick his ass then."

The burly cop lead the way back out into the hallway to the other door. He unceremoniously threw it open and barreled his way inside. Catherine walked a little calmer, but not by much. They both took seats in the other two chairs. Johnson didn't even bother to look up at either of them.

"So, Mr. Johnson. Where did you get those dogs?"

"Watching them for my wife's brother. Not mine."

Brass nodded, "But why would you bother to watch them when you obviously are not prepared to take care of them. That kennel left a lot to be desired."

The blonde man shrugged, "Not important. Just stupid dogs."

"Well, if they are so stupid Mr. Johnson, how could they be trained to be killing machines?" Catherine asked softly.

She watched as the other man tensed for a second. If she hadn't been watching for a reaction, she probably would have missed it. This was going to take careful words, set plans.

"I have no clue what you are talking about. Those dogs have only been behind my garage for three days and never have left that cage. They are too insane to be left anywhere else."

"So you admit there is something wrong with them?"

"Yeah, they snap and bark at anything that moves. I wouldn't let my son near them."

Brass looked down at his hands, "You sure he never went by them?"

"Never. He knew better. He knows when to listen."

"The dogs are dangerous and could possible harm your son," Brass kept his tone steady, "But why would you allow them to go after another boy?"

Mr. Johnson slammed his fists down onto the table in front of him, "I already said they never were out of that cage. They were supposed to be leaving tomorrow! I didn't even want them on my property!"

His face was red and a few veins were present in his neck. Catherine watched his hands as he flexed them. There was something more here. They needed to get him hooked up to a polygraph to make sure. He wasn't going to give them anything now.

"Mr. Johnson, I have one more question for you. It pertains to the reason you will be spending the night behind bars. Why did you attack the CSI at your house?"

His eyes bore into hers, "He was touching my son. No one does that. He needed to know that."

"Well, you are going to spend the night here with a few guys I think you might like. Get up. We are going to sign you on in," Brass stood and motioned to the other man.

Catherine ran a hand through her hair once she was alone. Her gut was protesting about everything. This case was just not working. She needed to get some rest. There was no way she was going to be able to see things clearly at this rate. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was time to call it a shift and go home, Grissom be damned.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The phone rang. It was persistent, but he could ignore it. Nick rested his head on the back of his couch and starred up at the ceiling. His head hurt, his arm hurt, his pride hurt. Things were just not working for him anymore right now. It was getting ridiculous.

He had been home for only a short while, yet it felt like an eternity. The pill bottle was sitting on the table in front of him, but he wasn't ready to be numbed. Nick had thoughts running wild through his head and wanted to be able to think about them. The drugs would take that away from him. Control was his for as long as he could stand the throbbing.

That afternoon was on repeat in his brain and each time he picked something new out. Miguel had not been afraid of the garage until the dogs began barking. He had been afraid of his father. The wife did nothing to stop her husband. He fought too much for things to be nothing. Something was up.

Nick lifted his good hand and began to claw at the cast without even realizing it. The flesh underneath the protective barrier was beginning to itch and there was nothing he really could do about it. His attempt with a clothes hanger earlier had not been pretty. Experiments of that sort were being held off. He would itch.

The phone rang again. This time he picked it up and looked at the display. It was only Catherine's third call. She had a ways to go to catch up to Warrick. The other man had called him a grand total of eight times. Nick had to say though he enjoyed the threats left over his voice mail. Gave him something to laugh about. But he had enough. The phone was silenced.

His body was tired and it was winning the battle. Nick hefted himself off the plush furniture and grabbed the little orange bottle on his way. The walk down the hallway was short enough and he sank down onto his bed. He had placed a glass of water on the night table when he had changed earlier so all he had to do was get the damn cap off the bottle.

"Cheers," he lifted his glass to the no ones in his room and he threw back two pills.

Nick climbed under the covers and shut off the light on the table. His head rejoiced at the reunion with the pillow and he allowed himself to relax. Thoughts wandered here and there in his head now. The pills were beginning to dissolve and take affect. Nick took a deep breath and was ready to sleep.

A sudden image threw itself in the front. It demanded attention. Nick tried to grab a hold of it, but the drug in his blood wouldn't allow it. He struggled away from sleep, but couldn't manage it. Sleep took over as the image of Miguel in the interrogation room flashed by. The boy had had cuts on his legs.

TBC…sleepy Nick, nice image…


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Well, I just had the oddest day in a long time. My vision went all funky and couldn't see colors, well, still can't! It is really weird and almost freaky! And then, huge incident at work with a possible stolen car, crashes, police chases, and ambulances. I swear, would have never through so much drama would come from working at a retail store. But anyways, it all made me wish to post this chapter today instead of tomorrow. Thought I could use some good words on the story. Hope you all enjoy. And again, thanks for the awesome words from great people on the last chapter. See you all next time. Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#12**

Veronica Johnson held her son close. The curtains were drawn and all the windows locked behind them. Her body was trembling, but there was nothing she could do to make it stop. She was only glad that her son had his face pressed into the print of her dress so he couldn't see the tears running down her face.

They would come soon. Charles had been told that if something would happen, they would be there. But Veronica didn't know if it would be for the best or if they would make everything worst. No matter what was going to happen with her husband behind bars, no one was going to touch her son again. She had protested the exam in the first place. They had the guilty boy. No need to touch her dear Miguel.

A few sniffles could be heard from the boy, but nothing else. He was always afraid these days. If she didn't honor her wedding vows as much as she did, she would have taken her boy and run back to her family down in Mexico. No child should have to live in fear of his father. Miguel rubbed his face against the fabric and clutched at her harder than before.

The door shook at a fist rammed against it. Veronica gasped and clung to her boy even more. They were already here. She didn't know what they would ask. Always they wanted names and any other information one knew about their enemies. She didn't know anything about those men. They were only last names to her.

It wasn't long before the door began to bend as they attacked it. She couldn't force herself to get up and unlock it for them. That would leave Miguel in the middle of the room alone and that was not an option. Once they were in, she would give them what they wanted and then lock them back out. Veronica listened to the wood crack as the door was freed from the handle that locked it into place. It swung open and a group of cloaked figures poured in.

They quickly swarmed around the woman and her boy. Whispers washed over her face as they got closer and closer. One stopped right in front of her and kneeled down close. The black fabric rustled, but Veronica couldn't see the face hidden within. But when the voice spoke at full tone, she knew who it was. It wasn't all that surprising.

"Where is your husband?"

It took a moment for her to find her voice, though it was still weak, "He was…arrested."

"By whom?"

"I only know two names, Stokes and Vega. The other two were different, but I don't remember what they called themselves," she shook as the words tumbled out.

"Was there a man named Brown with them?"

"Maybe," Veronica was trembling, "There was a tall, black man with them that wasn't a cop. Might have been him. I don't remember if a name was said."

A hand reached up and touched her on her cheek. The skin was odd. It reminded her of something, something that only age could bring. But the owner of the hand pulled back before she had more time to analyze it. The mask got even closer. She could feel the softness on her skin now.

"We did your family a justice. Doing two more will cost you."

"I have nothing more to give"

The figure sat back on its heels "I think you do. Don't worry, it won't hurt…much."

Veronica could feel the sobs rising in her throat as she hugged Miguel close. His face was still against her body. He shouldn't be here for this. Her eyes couldn't keep up with the other cloaks as they danced around the room. One went to the lamp at the side of the couch. The room went dark. She could only feel now.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Warrick starred at the beaker sitting in front of him. This new gig was really beginning to suck. He could defiantly understand Greg's need to get out of this place. It was just too boring for his tastes. But Mia had told him to wait in this lab. Warrick wanted to pull out his hair. And he had only been here for ten minutes.

Most of the day staff was gone, the grave yard crew trickling in slowly. Even Grissom had thrown in the towel and headed home. None of his fellow CSI's were here and he really didn't feel like talking with anyone else at that moment,

He had run into Brass on his way in and the detective have filled him on what happened when Mr. Johnson was questioned. The man had something to do with everything, but they just didn't have enough on him. The DNA sample they had taken from him didn't match anything they had. All they had was the dogs in his backyard, but that wouldn't hold up in court. The defense would shred that.

Doctor Albert Roberts was currently looking back over the boy's body and making a solid connection to the dogs. They still didn't have a name, but they were hoping to get something out of Mr. Johnson, some time soon. But Warrick wasn't allowed to think like this right now. He was banned.

"Hey, don't be such a downer," Mia smiled from her place in the doorway.

She had come in when the man in front of her erupted into one very large sigh. Mia knew he was not happy about this arrangement, but he would get over it. The DNA lab was busy with cases from day so she would need all the help she could get. Maybe if Warrick was good, she would let him work on the good stuff.

"Hey girl. So what are you going to put me through tonight?"

"Nothing major. We have some clean up work from a couple cases the day shift has been working. And then just some paper filing. Trace is where the action is at right now, but Hodges has made it clear to me he doesn't want you in there."

Warrick smirked, "I wouldn't want to work with him anyways."

Mia laughed as she walked over to get her counters ready. She had loosened up a little since she started working for this lab. It wasn't that she still didn't like order; she had just learned to make it a little more chaotic. The CSI's just didn't give her the option to have the perfect lab anymore.

The tall CSI forced his body to his feet and walked over to help her get things ready. The folders and samples were waiting after all. Warrick was sure they would be getting a whole lot of shit from the day guys if their stuff wasn't ready to go when they got back. They weren't as nice with things like that as his team.

Both were busy in their tasks that they missed the new arrival. Catherine walked into the room, a sad smile on her face. She hated seeing any of her guys in that white lab coat. It looked weird on the tall frame of the dark skinned man. He was meant to be in fine clothes only, not that cheap cotton.

"So how are things going in here?"

Warrick turned to face the blonde and grinned, "Just getting started. Are you nosey or something, Cath?"

"Nah, just wondering how you are doing?"

"Okay considering. Going to be a long couple days, no offense Mia."

The other woman scoffed, "None taken."

Catherine studied Warrick's face for a moment, "How's Nicky?"

"Don't know. Man won't answer his phone. I woke up later than I thought I would so I didn't have time to run over quick."

Warrick was worried about the Texan. He knew how personal Nick took Grissom and his words. There was no reason to think anything bad would come from it, but he was worried just the same. No matter what happened during this shift, he was going to stop over there when it was done. Nick was going to talk about this.

"Well, I'll be leaving you two alone now. Don't make me have to come in and clean anything up, ya hear!"

Catherine walked away from the two laughing behind her. She still needed to head to the locker room and get ready for the new shift. Only one other person was in there and she laughed at the sight. There was always free entertainment with one Greg Sanders.

The former lab technician had his headphones on and was currently jamming on an invisible guitar as he hopped in place. His back was to Catherine so she was able to get in a good show. She sat on the bench and was wishing she had a tub of popcorn and a camera. She had seen some odd things when Greg still worked in the lab, but nothing this free and wild.

The song was reaching its climax and Greg could feel his blood pumping to the beat. He jumped up onto the bench and closed his eyes. His voice joined in even though he couldn't hear it over the pounding in his ears. Greg began shaking his head, sending his hair flying. As far as he still knew, he was alone and had a few more minutes.

The door open one more time and Catherine turned to watch her boss walk in, a complete look of confusion on his face. Grissom never understood Greg's addiction to looking like an idiot when listening to music. Catherine was sure that the older man had never done anything remotely close to dancing and singing when listening to any music.

"What is going on in here?"

Catherine shushed him with a wave of her hand. She wanted to see the grand finally. And Greg wasn't one to disappoint. As the song came to its closing, he jumped off the bench, propelling himself as high as he could in the air. He landed with his feet apart, throwing his arms high into the arm and jamming with his head. Greg took a deep breath and opened his eyes when the song stopped completely. He fell backwards over the bench as he took in the other two.

"Oh shit!"

Both Catherine and Grissom were at his side as he tried to figure out what happened from the floor, "You okay?"

"Damn, warn a guy next time," Greg groaned as he pushed himself up and away from Catherine's hands. It wasn't a big deal that he had been caught, but it just had to be Catherine and Grissom. That other man always seemed to catch him when he was dancing to some type of music.

"You should be getting ready for work," Grissom lectured, "But instead you are in here acting like a fool. I already have had to hand down punishment on two others. Don't make me have to do the same to you Greg."

With that statement, the gray haired man left the room. Catherine placed her hands on her hips and glared at that door. That man always knew how to slam someone down into the ground. He really needed to learn how to live and let others do the same.

"Come on Greg. Get ready and I'll meet you in the conference room," she said as she followed through the doorway.

Grissom wasn't very far down the hallways and it didn't take much for her to catch up to him. She grabbed a hold of his lower arm and pulled him down and into his office. He didn't put up much resistance and didn't say a thing. Catherine closed the door with a slam and turned on the other.

'What is wrong with you? Greg was doing nothing wrong!"

"He was distracted, not on the case,"

Catherine could feel her jaw drop, "It is a new shift, a new look as you always say. The boy just walked in the door! He shouldn't have to be thinking on the case already. He isn't you!"

"No he isn't, but he should take his job more seriously. He could get himself hurt and there would be nothing any of could do. I will not let that happen. He needs to think before he acts."

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't about Greg at all, is it?" her voice dropped as she looked into the raged face of Grissom. Rarely had she seen this side of him.

Grissom felt as if he had been hit. The air left his lungs and his legs felt weak. He reached around and found the back of his chair before he lowered himself into it. This had been building up since last shift. It shouldn't have come out like this, not against Greg. He should have straightened it out earlier.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

"No, but you needed to. Who's this really about?"

He looked up into Catherine's eyes, "I'm worried about Nicky."

Not even thinking about the action, Catherine walked up to Grissom and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She held him tight as he took a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes. Catherine knew how much every member of this team meant to Grissom even if he never told any of them.

"He will be fine."

"For now, but who knows what is going to happen next. If I could, I would put him in a jar."

Catherine couldn't help it. She laughed, "Yeah, that would go over real well. He is just at home and not answering his phone. I talked with Warrick."

A knock at the door stopped any response. Greg opened it and stuck his head in. He wasn't in the mood to be killed, but wanted to know what he should be doing. The sight of Catherine standing behind Grissom wasn't as shocking as it probably should have been. Catherine always was a hugger when things started to get rough.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"No Greg, please come in," Grissom waved him over, "I am sorry for what happened in the locker room. I was out of line and shouldn't have taken that tone. Don't let it affect your performance tonight."

"Heh, no sweat. Nick and Warrick have yelled at me worse. I'll live."

Catherine watched the interaction, "So what are the plans for tonight, oh fearless leader?"

"I want up to find any connection we can for the White's with that church. Something is going on in that place and I believe it may hold our answers. Let's find the reports on them and see what comes up. I'll call Vega and have him fax over the report he took from his visit with Mr. White's boss."

Grissom watched Catherine walk over to stand next to Greg. This was all he had for the night. He had been stupid in making Warrick go into the lab. Maybe he could get him to come back and work with him again. And he was going to have to make a call to Nick. He was worried about the Texan.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was warm in the room. The covers were too much. Nick kicked them off the bed as he struggled to wake up. His body was still caught up in the rest, but his brain wanted nothing more to do with it. He opened his eyes and turned his head enough so he could look at the digital clock that sat on his night stand. Nick had been asleep for only six hours.

Groaning, he lifted a heavy hand to his face to wipe away all the remnants of sleep. He needed to get up and moving. Nick crawled out of bed and made his way slowly to the bathroom. His arm was throbbing as the blood flow returned to it at full force. The Texan was going to need another pain pill if it didn't cease.

The sight in the mirror was somehow confusing. Nick's eyes crinkled as he took in the large bruise covering a good portion of his lower, right face. It took a few seconds for him to remember the attack from Mr. Johnson at the man's house. That was the reason he was not allowed to work for a week. Nick scowled at his image.

"Stupid asshole!"

He picked up the bar of soap on the sink and chucked it into the shower. It reshaped with the impact and part of it remained on the tiling. Nick took a deep breath to calm himself. The sudden movement had sent sharp pains through the cast. He kept forgetting he needed to be more careful with himself at that moment. And he needed to get that plastic bag to cover the thing so he could shower.

Shuffling back into the hallway, he headed to the kitchen and his bag of goodies from the hospital. He remembered how Dr. Mercer explained to put it on the best way and managed to get it right after three tries. If he had the energy and the beer, he might have thrown himself a party.

But something was bothering him. Nick could feel that he was missing something again. Sleep had taken it away from him. The CSI stood in the middle of the kitchen, plastic bag in place, trying to think of whatever it was. This was going to bother him. He headed to the bathroom. A shower was needed.

TBC…


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hello, hello, hello! Well, found out the eye issue and what do ya know, have an eye infection. Ah, yay to me. Man, do I ever loath having to do anything eyeball related. Things give me the willies. But onto the fan fiction thing, I have tried out that reply option in the reviews page for the last two chapters last night. I will not be able to do that regularly, but will try as much as I can. Time is running short for me as it is. So I hope it worked for everyone I tried it with. But thanks to the people (MJ and Joy for the last two!) I am unable to do so with. You still help me out a lot with my confidence in this story. So onto the new chapter and another piece to the puzzle. Enjoy as always and see you all again. Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#13**

Detective Vega got out his squad car slowly. His body was sore, but he had gotten some sleep. Now if he could just get some of his worries off his chest, he would be fresher than a rose. There was something he wanted to check over before he went to check with Grissom on what needed to be done yet. Nothing had panned out with the brother-in-law and the dogs. There was no brother-in-law.

He walked down the hallway of the CSI lab, nodding at the people he passed. There were no qualms here for him. Vega respected these people and their hard work. If not for them, his job would be completely pointless. He could arrest all he wanted, but he needed someone to make it stick.

The two CSI's were already in the room, but he highly doubted they were at all waiting for him. Hell, he hadn't said he was going to stop by. As far as any of them knew, he was sitting at his desk in the department. But they had the sheets he needed.

"Hey guys."

Catherine and Greg looked up at the cop as he entered the room. Neither was surprised by the visit, "Hey, what do you need Sam?"

"I just wanted to look over some stuff and knew you guys would have it."

"Sure, take a look at whatever," Catherine waved her hand absently over the files spread out over the large table.

Sam didn't need a bigger invitation to sit. His eyes darted around over the titles on the files and found the two he wanted. Neither CSI glanced to see what he grabbed and he didn't say a word about them. These were the lists. He just hoped something came from looking over all these damn names. It was really something he should have done earlier, when Nick showed him Johnson's name.

He wanted to know about the other two families of those kids. Something made him want to check for their names. As he scanned the list of members for that church, neither of the other parents made the list. So much for that train of thought. But he caught another list.

With a frown on his face, Vega pulled the other list from the other folder. This was the one he had given to the CSI's. It was the list from Mr. White's office. Without thinking too much about it, Vega allowed his eyes to roam the white paper. But it was about half way down that they stopped completely.

"What!"

Catherine looked up at the cop as he began to ruffle through the two name lists that they had. He seemed excited about something. This might be a good thing. She lifted herself out of her chair a little more to see if she could make out what he was trying to do.

The detective didn't notice the movement of the woman sitting across from him as he matched the names, "Well, well. Something finally works."

"What did you find?"

"I found a match from both of the lists. I think I might have something for the White's"

This announcement made Greg dismiss what he was looking at and study the man in front of him, "You found our suspect?"

"Not for sure, but this man's name is on both lists. I agree with Jim on this one that it all is somehow connected to that place. And since this guy works with our late Mr. White, it is the best lead I can think of."

"So what's the name," Catherine stood, "We'll need an address."

"We?"

"Of course. Greg and I are going to accompany you to the man's house and take a look around. Can't leave you to break our case now can we?"

Vega laughed and shook his head. He didn't have anything to respond with and simply followed Catherine from the room. There was the sound of a chair scrapping along the floor and knew that Greg was coming. It was just too bad they didn't have a warrant for this.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The house of Brian Dubois wasn't too shabby. It was a little gaudy for Catherine's tastes, but it was an impressive size. She stood behind Vega as the other man rang the doorbell. Greg was holding his kit in his right hand, gently bumping it on his leg as they waited. The younger man was happy to be out of the lab. Catherine could tell.

It took almost a full minute before the lock was clicked out of place and the knob began to turn. The door swung open to reveal an extremely tall, pale man with dark brown hair, gray streaks running through it. Mr. DuBois looked like he hadn't slept in awhile or was up all last night drinking.

"Brain DuBois? I am Sam Vega with the LVPD and these are CSI Willows and Sanders with the crime lab. We are here to ask you a few questions. Is it alright if we come in?"

The man looked completely confused, "Ask me about what? I paid that parking ticket I got last month. No warrant for arrest needed. I was trying to sleep."

"This will only take a few minutes. And no, this is not about a traffic violation. We are here to see if you know anything about what might have happened to your coworker Mr. Ralph White or his wife."

Catherine watched as the man thought it over before he finally waved them inside. He kept looking behind them as if waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes. She followed and was led into a large living room with very plush furniture. It seemed that being an accountant paid very well.

"So what happened to White? Did he do something stupid?"

"No, he is dead. Along with his wife. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Vega sat down on the edge of the large couch next to the CSI's.

DuBois' mouth dropped and his eyes got large, "Dead! Wow, I just saw the guy at work the other day. But no, I didn't even know he was dead. It is a shame. He was a hard worker."

"You were not friends?" Greg couldn't believe the detachment of the other man.

"No, just worked together. He got the promotion instead of me. Guy was a counting machine. No one could keep up with him. I just saw him by the coffee pot."

"So you would say you were jealous of him?"

The tall, skinny man turned to face Vega at the question, "Everyone was. He was the boss' favorite employee. Someday he was going to make partner."

"Do you attend a religious group called the Church of Gods?" Catherine asked suddenly.

"Yes…what does that have to do with anything?"

"A member of the church is also dead," Vega rubbed his hands together, "But that doesn't apply to what we need from you today."

"You think I murdered them? That is insane!"

Mr. Dubois jumped to his feet and began to pace his living room. His face was contorted up in anger and something else that Catherine couldn't figure out. Something was not being said here. This guy was up to no good, that was for sure.

Greg began to feel uncomfortable with the man walking in front of him like a caged tiger and got to his feet. He walked over the large glass door in the far wall. The backyard to the property was impressive underneath the patio lights, lots of green grass and a few trees. And there was pretty decent sized pool sitting in a cement patio. Greg admired it all when something caught his eye.

"Mr. Dubois, when was the last time you cleaned your pool?"

Everyone turned to face the youngest man in the room. Greg could feel a blush rising on his cheeks, but knew he couldn't let it show. He needed to be strong and confident to get respect from this man.

"I had the guys here yesterday, why?"

"Have they started with a new cleaner? I have never seen one that leaves yellow stains on the cement."

Catherine rushed over to look at the pool as soon as Greg finished speaking. Without thinking about it, she pulled the corner of her shirt out and used it to cover her hand as she opened the door. Once she was to the edge of the pool, she could make out yellow stains over the entire inside of the pool and all around on the cement.

"Sam, I think we are going to need to ask Mr. Dubois a few more questions."

Mr. Dubois began to sweat and fidget at the announcement. He knew what this meant and he knew what a bad liar he was. This was not going to go well. He should have said no. There was no resistance when he felt the cop take his arms and pull them behind him. The cuffs were cold on his flesh.

"You are going to come down to the station with us. Do you have a lawyer?"

"No, but I know one. He's a friend."

Sam nodded his head and turned to remove the man from his own house. He needed to call for backup and have this place sealed off. The two CSI's were going to have some work to do. Yellow spots in a pool were enough to question him, but not hold him. They needed proof.

Catherine walked back in and grabbed the kit bag from where Greg sat it next to the couch. She handed Greg a couple swabs as she got ready to take a few pictures of the area. This was a potential crime scene and they needed to get it documented. If this was their guy, he wasn't going to get away with it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Brass walked through the police department hallways at a pace that kept everyone back. No one had the nerve to approach him while he was in that state. He really couldn't remember a time he had been so angry. This was getting ridiculous and quickly. And that damn CSI was not answering his phone. What kind of supervisor didn't answer his phone!

Andrew Kehls sat in a chair down a ways in order to stay out of the path of fire, but was not going to leave his Captain out of his sights. He had been assigned to work with the older man for the night. And he knew that if he were to look away for a moment, Brass would be gone. That would not look good for the young cop trying to make something out of himself.

The older cop walked towards Kehls and abruptly stopped. Brass turned and pressed his back onto the wall, "I swear, that Grissom is going to drive me into early retirement."

"Why don't we just go to the house and wait for him there?"

Brass lifted an eyebrow at the suggestion. It wasn't odd for him to be at the scene first, then have the CSI's arrive after. And it would piss the other man off. Brass couldn't stop the grin from rising on his face. He looked at the man sitting by him. The kid was going to have talent.

"You're right. Get you stuff. We are driving over there. Grissom can just get off his ass and meet us."

Without waiting to see if Kehls got up to follow him or not, Brass pushed off the wall and made to head to the exit. The two men maybe got twenty feet before they were stopped by an interesting sight. It seemed the Vega had finally arrested a man too tall for him. The brown haired man towered over the cop, but it was good to see that he wasn't putting up any resistance. In fact, the man looked defeated.

Catherine and Greg stood off to the side as Mr. Dubois was booked and being made ready to have his prints and photo taken before questioning. The two CSI's noticed Brass and Kehls staring at them and waved the two over. The blonde haired woman couldn't help, but notice the odd look the younger man was giving their suspect.

"Jim, Andrew. How's it going?"

Brass coughed, "Not too terrible except for the fact that your boss seems to be okay with not answering his phone."

"Yeah, he does that sometimes," Catherine smiled.

Officer Kehls was still starring at the tall man as if he was trying to remember why this man was triggering his interest. The young man knew he had seen, even talked to this guy before. It just wasn't coming to the front of his mind. He could hear the others talking, but he was locked up in his own head, sorting through his memories.

"What did you need to talk with Grissom about?"

"We got a new 419 call. It seems that arresting Mr. Johnson might not have been a very good idea."

Catherine crinkled her face in confusion. "What?"

"It seems that someone broke into the Johnson home," Brass sighed, "Veronica Johnson's body was found in the kitchen. A neighbor went over to ask for something, looked in a window and saw her on the floor, lots of blood. This was around nine this evening, supposedly, but the call didn't come in 'til thirty minutes ago. I have to two cops there now."

"We were going to join them," Kehls finally pulled his attention for Dubois as the other man was lead away into the back rooms.

"Paramedics?"

"Already left. Called in for Phillips and left the place to the cops. And Catherine, the kid is missing."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

It was so quiet in the lab. He finally understood the need that Greg had to play music, loudly, in his DNA lab. Warrick wished he had that ability. But he knew Mia would probably kill him over the choice of tunes. He liked life way too much to even tempt it.

The doors to the lab rooms were all open to help with the heat that kept coming from somewhere. He could hear Hodges mumbling something to himself across the hall. It was annoying to say the least. Someone had to take that guy out back and beat him for a few minutes. That might help a lot.

Warrick rubbed at his eyes with his forearm. Looking in a microscope this long was making him go cross eyed. His respect for Mia was going up notch by notch, but he would never let the woman know. It would work against him in the end. He was about to say something to her when a shout of triumph came from across the hall.

"Well, it seems that Hodges has come up with something," Mia smiled.

"Yeah, about time to."

The two crossed the expanse of the hallway and entered the trace lab. The man inside was not surprised to see them, "Things a little dull over there in DNA?"

"We were wondering what in the world could cause you to show some sign of human life," Warrick said simply.

"It just so happens that I made the match between the paint the victim was drowned in and what Catherine sent in from that pool. Exact same make up. It is what one could call chrome yellow if they understood it. But most people call it sunshine yellow though I did find a hint of a green shade as well. Lead chromate in this sample was diluted by numerous lead salts to achieve this color. It is common in most hardware stores so there is no way to really get an exact location on where it was bought from."

Warrick nodded, "So this guy was at the murder. He might be able to give us the information that Mr. Johnson won't."

"Hold back their big boy," Mia smirked, "But you are still stuck with me. No CSI work for you. All you get to add to this case is DNA papers."

"Don't remind me…" was all he got out before Mia dragged him away from Hodges and his information on the yellow paint.

TBC…


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **It's snowing! Man, I love that stuff! Oh yeah…fan fiction…new chapter! Wanted to get something out since it will be Tues otherwise. Didn't want to hold out on y'all too long. Hope this one answers some of those questions I know everyone seems to have. We are getting to the good stuff now. Enough of the case file…let's get to the stuff I know you all want! Starts now! Let's go for a ride! Until Tues people! Adios!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#14**

The body of the Mexican woman was lying face down on the off white tile of the kitchen. Greg coughed to cover the choking that rose up in his throat. The newer CSI had seen plenty of blood since he started at Level 1, but this was a lot, all in one place. Catherine looked like she was right at home, but he had a feeling he was looking kind of green.

David Phillips had arrived almost the same time they did since the paramedics had called in an examiner when they were leaving. The man was currently kneeling by the body, trying to avoid as much of the blood as possible. It was spattered everywhere. Greg could have sworn there was some on the ceiling.

"Catherine, what should we start with?"

The supervising CSI looked at her partner, "Pictures, pictures, and some more pictures. We need to document everything and where everything is located. And then swab down all the samples. Need to make sure that no one else bled here."

Greg nodded and reached into his kit for the camera waiting for him. He never would have thought he would ever use one as much as he had the best few months. His mother had always said he could never take a clear picture, it was always fuzzy. But this job was like photography magic. Greg learned more about the lenses, the films, densities, and settings than he ever wanted to.

"Catherine, I have to say the body fell in this position. None of the blood seems smeared, just dropped. And the way her upper body is compared to the lower, no one touched her."

She nodded at the announcement from David, "Any preliminary cause of death?"

"Well, without moving the body and disturbing everything, I cannot be sure. But with this amount of blood and where it is pooling the most, throat slashed, and possible stabbing in chest. I'll make sure once you give me the go."

The man stepped back out of the way and let Greg get in to get some pictures of the position of Mrs. Johnson. David could tell by looking at the coloring of her skin and the way the blood was still wet in many areas, the woman had not been dead long. He would learn more back in his office.

Catherine got to work quickly on swabbing the blood around the body. She wanted to make sure David would be able to get his work done swiftly and as accurately as possible. This murder was connected to the others, Catherine could taste it. If they could get something from this one, they might be able to fill in the holes they had.

"Okay David. I'm done here," Catherine moved away from the body to allow the man to work.

Flashes of light filled the room as Greg collected his pictures of all the blood and its spatters. From the positioning of the stronger spatters, Catherine could tell the slash was made from left to right. She walked carefully and placed herself where she thought Mrs. Johnson had been standing when she was murdered. It would fit if that was determined to be cause of death.

Officer Kehls stood in the doorway to the backyard and looked out towards the desolate landscape. The air inside was too much and he asked to be placed out back. He could hear the others talking behind him, but didn't dare to turn around. The wheels of the gurney told him the body was leaving to its latest appointment along with Phillips. This was not the reason he wanted this job. But it wasn't these thoughts keeping him so jumpy either. Something about that man at the station was still driving him nuts.

"Hey Catherine, I may have a partial footprint here. Looks to be leading outside, over by Andrew."

Upon hearing his name, Kehls automatically turned to face Greg, "Sorry, should I move?"

"Nah, just tell me where you have walked and if anything looked odd to you," Greg walked over to the slightly taller man.

"I only walked along the edge of the house and stopped once I got here. I might have shifted around once I was here, but I didn't touch any of the areas right off the cement."

Greg nodded and took some pictures of the ground right outside the door. Nothing caught his eyes, but he would go over it later with a fine toothed comb. It the killer or killers left through this doorway and took the kid with them, something would be off. He could only hope he could find drag marks like the ones back at the White's house.

"Thanks Andrew. I'll take a look at all of this in a little bit. Need to finish up helping Catherine inside."

The officer nodded his head and tried to hold himself as still as possible. But as predicted, once he started making a conscious effort to hold still, his body began to sway more and more. He had to get his mind off of his feet. Kehls immediately went back to thinking about the man in the station. Then, as if someone struck him, it came. He had interviewed the man outside the White's house when it was on fire. It was the classic case of worried neighbor. Andrew wanted to slap himself in the forehead.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Grissom tried to get a hold of Nick once again, but the other man didn't seem to know how to answer his phone any more. He held in his slight anger as he walked into the police station. Detective Vega had asked him to come in to work with Mr. Brain Dubois since Catherine and Greg headed over to the Johnson household.

He held the results of the paint tests that Hodges had in his hand. It was enough to get a warrant and do a full search of the house if Mr. Dubois decided he didn't feel like talking. The meeting was to take place in room two and he stopped at the doorway to observe the man inside.

Dubois was sitting slouched over in his chair, his eyes locked on something he found interesting in the table top. His large hands were clasped together in his lap. Grissom could tell that the man would stand over him if they stood side by side. The man was screaming guilt and worry.

Vega was already in the room when the door opened to reveal the CSI. The man in front of him had said nothing to him the entire time and ignored all his questions. Something Vega had always prided himself in was his patience with suspects, but this guy was beginning to grade on his nerves big time. He only hoped Grissom had something to help get the man to talk.

"Mr. Brian Dubois, this is CSI Gil Grissom and he will be sitting in on our discussion," Sam then turned to address Grissom, "He has declined counsel. His lawyer friend is away on vacation."

"Alright. I just want to get right to the point. Mr. Dubois, the paint found in and around your pool is consistent with the paint one Mr. Brett Mueller was drowned in. You have anything to say about that?"

Dubois took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Sweat broke out all over his face and he began to work his hands together. This was way over his head and he didn't have to ability to work out of the hole he was now in. Not even his master would be able to help in this situation.

"He…died in my pool. It's where the paint was dumped to kill him."

"Why?"

"They ordered it."

Grissom's eyebrow rose at those words, "They? Someone else told you to do it?"

"I didn't actually do it. I was just the one with the pool. They did the work, brought the paint after they mixed it. It was determined Brett was to be sacrificed for our cause. He needed to relive his fears."

"Who are these people?"

"Friends. People like me. People with respect for things that people have forgotten they needed to respect. It will get everyone before too long. No one is safe," the man began to rock back and forth, "That is why Veronica is next."

Vega moved to the edge of the table, "How do you know about that?"

The man shrugged, "It's what happens. No one is to help or speak to outsiders when it comes to our work. It is forbidden."

"Mr. Dubois, who are you working with? What is your work," Grissom asked softly.

It was already too much though. Dubois began to shake and his head whipped from side to side. He was not going to give them any more. It was complete silence for him for the rest of his days. There was no way he was going to let them get him. He didn't want to die by his greatest fear.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The only thing he enjoyed about working in the lab, it was easier to get out on time than when working out in the field. Mia had everything under control and a few more hours to put in so she told Warrick to take off. She could tell how much the man wanted to check on Nick anyways.

Warrick practically ran to his truck and dropped his keys twice as he tried to work the door open. He climbed in, slapped his belt on, and started the ignition. The traffic shouldn't be too bad at this hour. It should only take fifteen minutes to make it to Nick's townhouse. Then he could yell.

There was only one car that made his blood boil and the lights played nice for once. Nick's SUV was sitting all the way up in the driveway. Warrick pulled his up behind it and got out. As he headed to the door, he noticed there were two newspapers on the mat. He scooped them both up and rang the doorbell.

"Come on man. Open the damn door."

After almost a full minute, Warrick used the key Nick had given him and let himself into the house. There was no noise, the television was off. Warrick couldn't make out anything as he walked into the living room. The main rooms were clear so he headed to down the hallway.

The bedroom door was closed. He only hesitated for a heart beat before he turned the knob and opened the door. Nick was sitting on the floor by the bed, completely asleep. His head was tilted back at an odd angle and his right leg was tucked under his body. Warrick cringed at the sight and felt pity for how he knew the Texan was going to feel when he woke.

With a deep breath and a small smile, Warrick knelt next to his friend and put his hand on Nick's shoulder. The other man didn't even shift. Warrick had a feeling he had taken some of his pills and wouldn't be waking on his own. He stood and stretched his back out slightly. It didn't take much before he had Nick onto of the bed, legs out straight.

Warrick looked around the room and frowned. Dirty clothes were thrown all over the floor, a shoe was on top of the dresser, and his CSI identification was sticking out from under the bed. This was not normal for the other man. It had always been a joke between the two that Nick was too neat and tidy. This was not a good sign.

The taller man walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. It looked a little better than the bedroom, but there were still plenty of damp towels bunched up around the small room. And it looked like Nick couldn't remember how to clean out his sink any more.

"Shit man. What are you trying to do here?"

And now that he actually looked, the kitchen looked the worst. There were plates with dried up food on them, the sink was filled with all sorts of dishes, and something living on the stove. It gave Warrick a slight chill. Well, since Nick was sleeping and Warrick had nothing else to do at that moment, he bent down and reached under the sink. The cleaning supplies looked welcoming.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Conrad Ecklie sat in his office and was signing off on a bunch of files that the day staff had finished up on last shift. Graveyard was still on the odd murders happening and it just came to his attention that they acquired another one. It was getting to be too much. Day shift was not as well off as the night and they were beginning to suffer because of it. Not that he would mention of word of it to Gil Grissom.

Several of the day CSI's had come to his office complaining of the lack of interest the other shift was showing in other cases around the lab. They took what they wanted and left everything else for the others to figure out. It was not right and Conrad should do something about it. But in all honesty, he didn't want to pull any of the graveyard off their mess. It would result in disaster.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door, "Come in."

A beautiful blonde haired woman opened the door and shyly let herself in, "Are you Conrad Ecklie, director of the CSI lab?"

"That would be me. How can I help you?"

"I am here from the mayor's office. He is concerned about the spending on the law enforcement for the next term and is looking into all areas of the security department. I am here to look over you staffing needs and evaluate the usage of your personal."

Conrad frowned, "I wasn't informed about this check."

"Well, the mayor was worried that if people were informed about it, then they would have a chance to hide anything that wouldn't look good. We need to know exactly what is going on, good and bad," the smile was sweet and flirtatious.

"What are you going to need from me?"

"I need access to personal files and all evaluations, as well as pay roll information. I need to make sure everyone that works here is qualified for their job and their pay."

Conrad sat taller in his seat, "This means people could be fired or get a pay cut?"

"Not likely. The lab is vital to law enforcement, the mayor knows this. It would be unfair of use to investigate the police station and not the lab. Most of the cuts will be made to the other group most likely. This will only take me a few hours and I will be on my way."

"Of course," Ecklie nodded, "I'll just need to see your identification so I can get you a pass filled out so you have access."

The woman smiled and pulled out a small wallet from her purse. She handed over the plastic card with her picture and the mayor's symbol. Ms. Sharon Walker was only twenty six. Ecklie quickly filled out the forms needed and handed everything she would need back to her.

"If you would follow me, I'll take you to filing and personal. You will have full access there."

They both walked down the hallways, no one even looked at them. Ecklie showed her to a large room with filed cabinets and one large table, "Personal is on the left, pay roll on the right. If you have any questions, Mrs. Swallow is right outside. This is her area and she will know anything you might need. Have a nice day and I hope you look kindly upon my department."

Ms. Walker smiled sweetly again and waited until the older man left. Once he was gone and the door closed, she opened the black briefcase she had and took out the supplies she would need. After a glance around the room, she noticed the copy machine. She placed the camera and the recorder on the table and walked over to the personal cabinets.

Everyone was alphabetized by their last name it seemed. She went straight for the names asked for: Brown, Grissom, and Stokes. All three men had fairly large files and Ms. Walker shuffled through them quickly. It wasn't until she reached the last file that a large, genuine smile reached her eyes. She would have enough and would not have to worry about letting her master down.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

There was an odd noise in his house. Nick couldn't place anything to the sound, but it was one he knew he shouldn't be hearing at that moment. He pulled himself from his deep sleep and stared at his ceiling as he tried to get his bearings back. Those pills sure knocked him on his ass. Maybe he should stop taking so many at once.

Someone was in his house. He knew he hadn't left the television on when he went to bed and for sure the vacuum cleaner had still been in his closet. Nick groaned as he got out of bed, hugging his arm cast close to his chest. He felt around underneath his feet for the baseball bat he knew was under the bed. It was the one his father had given him when he was twelve and it had many home runs indented within its wooden body.

Once the sturdy weight was in his good hand, Nick walked out into his hallway. Whoever was in his house was in the living room. His mind was still too foggy on the pain killing drugs for his arm that it didn't register that a killer wouldn't vacuum his carpet before killing him. All he knew was someone was in his house and he didn't know who.

Nick walked slowly, back pressed against the wall as he went. The light on the front of the cleaner was visible, whoever was here was facing in his direction. Nick hide the bat along side his leg and walked out into the open.

"Warrick? What the hell?"

"Nice to see you too, man," the taller man turned off the cleaner and released it.

"Why are you vacuuming my living room?"

Warrick chuckled, "Your place was getting kinda gross, bro. And I was bored waiting for you to wake up so I thought I would kill everything you were letting set up residence in here. Your thanks is appreciated."

Nick took a deep breath and walked over to his couch. He had forgotten about that bat in his hand when he saw his best friend in his living room. It clanked as he set it on the coffee table. His arm was sore and he wished for his sling.

"What's with the bat? Going to home run my head or something?"

"I didn't know who was in my house. Sorry."

"Eh, no biggie. I'd have grabbed a gun first though," Warrick sat next to the Texan, "So, any plans for the day? No one can get a hold of you. Everyone is worried."

Nick rubbed at his face, "I turned off my cell. Didn't want to talk to anyone. Been sleeping too much, I think. All I have been doing since I have been sent home by Grissom."

It was not easy to miss, the depression and sadness in Nick's voice. Warrick didn't like hearing it and didn't really know how to get rid of it. He knew he might make it worst if he didn't think about what he said first.

"Well, since I'm stuck in the lab, I have a few more hours than normal. We could go to a movie or something?"

"No man, I don't want to take away thing from your down time. The case is a tough one and you need to be fresh. Why don't you just head home? I can finish what you started."

"Nah, too far a drive. I'll just take over your bed," Warrick got off the couch before Nick could say a word, "Cleaning supplies are out on the counter. I want to see my face in the tile when you're done!"

Nick simply sat with his mouth open as he watched Warrick walk down the hallway and into his bedroom. The other man shut the door and Nick could hear the lock being turned. He snorted to himself as he shook his head and looked around the room. Warrick had gotten a good start on the mess he had been slowly making. He would start later. Right now, he needed to get something to eat.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The black cloak hung nicely on the hook by the door. His body ached and his head was pounding. This job was getting to be too much for him. There would need to be more to succeed him in the future. More training would be needed, at a younger age.

"Master?"

One of his followers was waiting for him, next to the window, "What is it Sharon?"

The petite woman with white blonde hair shifted her feet causing the fabric of her dress to swish with her. He recognized the fearful look in her eyes. Most had it when they were in his office, well, if they knew him that was. That cop had showed nothing, but disrespect in this room. He would soon learn like all the rest.

"Sir, we have the information you have requested. I printed it up and put it in that folder on your desk."

Sure enough, there was a yellow folder in the center of his desk. It looked to be thick with papers. He reached out with one shaky hand and opened it to look at the top paper. It contained three photographs of three different men. Two of them he had seen before, the third was a new one.

"These are the three men that Veronica talked about?"

"Yes and no, sir. Grissom is the lead CSI for the lab, he was here the day the cops came, but Veronica never met him. Her husband talked about him. And the black man is Brown. He went to her house with the other one, the new one."

"And the new one?"

Sharon smiled, "The cute one? He is the Texas CSI. It seems he has been suspended right now and has a broken arm. Such a pity. That would be the reason he wasn't here that day."

"We have enough?"

"Yeah, we should. Once we have them, we should learn more so it is effective. Use them against the other."

He nodded and sat in his chair. Some of the wrinkles disappeared when he tried to smile. People within the group were always easy to get rid of. It was the people outside their world that were a challenge. And these three law men would be the biggest they had ever faced. If they were successful in breaking each of them, their gods would be very pleased. Then they could go after the rest.

TBC…raise your hand if you think Ecklie made a mistake...(jumps up and down, hand high in the air)...


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Howdy! Hope you all have a good couple of days. Weren't too bad here. Just been really busy and going to continue this week. Thanks to everyone for the words on the last chapter. Lot's of people seem to be reading it so I guess it is going in a good direction. As I said last time, we are going nowhere, but forward now. Hope you all enjoy the mess the guys get themselves into this chapter…well, not that they ask for it… Hmm, ah well. Go on now, read! Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#15**

Charlie Johnson sat in his chair, his eyes facing straight in front of him. That burly cop and the gray haired CSI were sitting across from him. He knew they had talked with Brian and that he gave them something. Otherwise, he wouldn't be back in here. He still wasn't going to talk to these assholes. Let them rot.

"Now we know you and Dubois are working with someone to commit murder. All we want to know is how you are connected to all of this. Were you present for the murder of Brett Mueller?" Brass asked in an even voice.

Grissom watched the man closely as he rolled his eyes slightly, "Who did you kill?"

"I didn't kill anyone. Never have, never will," Johnson ground out.

"But you were part of it. How?"

"Look, no matter what you get, it will be nothing. You're not going to be able to stop anything. It all is in motion. All you can do is step out of the way and let it happen…though I think you're already in too deep and are royally fucked."

Brass looked hard at the man on the other side of the table, "Who's putting it all into motion, Mr. Johnson? Because whoever it is, they are taking you down as well. You wife was killed and your son is missing Mr. Johnson. You wanna talk now?"

This was a new bit of information for the man in the cuffs. His face paled and his hands began to shake. "When did this happen?"

"It is not important for right now," Brass said, "You need to tell us what we want to know first, then I will fill you in on all of that."

"Fuck you."

"That won't work with us. Just tell us what you have to do with everything and who you are working with on all of it."

Johnson frowned, "You'll never get a hold of him anyways. It is pointless."

Brass slammed his hands down on the table, "Who did you kill!"

"The boy!" the blonde man shouted back, "The boy! He was harassing my kid and he needed to learn a damn lesson! He was killed for showing that he thought he was tougher than my boy."

"You know his name?" Grissom asked softly, a complete contrast to the echoes in the room.

"Yeah, Kevin Starr. He was in my kid's school. Beat him up everyday on the way home from school. You see my boy's legs?"

Grissom shook his head no. He hadn't been present for that interview. Vega and Nick were the ones present for that one and neither was available at that moment. He still hadn't been able to get a hold of Nick anyways. But, a breath of relief escaped his body. They had a name for the lost boy.

"Why the frog toxin? Why the dogs?"

Johnson ran his hands through his hair, "He uses the toxin for us to get the person to submit. It is used on everyone we deal with. And as for the dogs…Starr was petrified of them. Use their greatest fear against them."

"But he was just a boy?"

"So! He walked around like he had nothing to worry about. That nothing could touch him. It happens at every age. No one can get away with that."

Brass began feeling a strange deja vu with this conversation. This all sounded like one he had with a different man in a different place. Some things were finally falling into place, but he didn't have enough so he wasn't about to bring any of it up in this little meeting.

"So, you know who has the frogs?"

"Of course, but we are done here. I am not going to talk to you anymore."

The blonde man sat back in his chair and set his face. Grissom could tell that this was all they were going to get out of him for now. The CSI got up out of his chair and left the room quickly. He would leave the rest to Brass to finish up. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

"Willows."

"Catherine, its Grissom. We have a name for the mauling victim. His name is Kevin Starr. Are you still with Sam?"

He listened to the woman on the other end of the line, "Okay. I want you to have him look up the boy's information and then call me with the address."

The phone flipped closed and he walked down the hallway. He wanted to get into his car and get back to the lab. But he stopped when he was outside for a moment. His phone flipped open again and he typed in a new number. The voice mail came on.

"Nick, its Grissom. Please give me a call when you get this message. I need to talk with you."

Grissom looked around him at everything happening outside the police station. Life was moving fast around him and he felt like he was in a stand still. All these men were working together one something, killing people as they went. He was going to figure it all out. This was going to end.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The black cloaks flittered around the bodies of the many people standing in the lawn. They had all received the phone call from their master and were given the new address. But this was going to be different than normal. No one was going to die on this mission. Both men were to go back with them.

One raised their hands to the hood and pushed it back. Sharon Walker studied the house in front of her. They had already gone to the other's apartment, but found no one had been home for a couple days. From what she had learned from the files, Brown would most likely be at the Stoke house if he wasn't at his house.

"Okay, just get in there and grab them. They are not to be harmed yet. But make sure you keep them quiet. No loud noised. Remember, anyone can see us. After all, we are doing this in broad daylight."

Several hooded heads nodded and they began their stalking on the house. There would be two groups for this mission. One group would take the back of the house while the other covered the front. They had no idea where both men were in the house so they had to cover all the bases.

Sharon put her hood back on and walked over to the front door. She knelt down so she was eye level with the lock and pulled out her tools. Her record was twenty three seconds on getting into a house. This might be the one chance to make a new one.

Several people stood behind her as she worked her magic. It wasn't long before the door swung open on quiet hinges. Quickly, they moved in and swarmed out to cover every inch of the place.

Nick jumped off the couch when he heard the door slam against the wall behind it. He had been swept up in a program on the Animal Planet Channel about the American Dove when it happened. His eyes got wide when he took in all the people in black cloaks now standing in his living room.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my house!"

"I would recommend you shut up and not try anything stupid," a male voice snickered.

Nick took one more good look and shook his head before he shouted, "Warrick! Warrick, get out of the house!"

The Texan jumped up over his coffee table and took off towards his hallway. The door to the bedroom was still closed and still locked. Warrick was trapped in that room, but he probably was safer in there. Nick threw his body into the door as loudly as he could before he continued to make his way down the hallway. There was black outs underneath the backdoor. People's feet.

Nick skidded to a stop on the carpeting. His breath quickened as he realized he was trapped on both ends. He walked slowly backwards until his back was right up against his bedroom door. Two cloaked figures were walking towards him from the living room and the backdoor was rattling on its hinges. Nick swallowed the lump that grew in his throat.

He was not prepared for when the door opened and an arm wrapped around his shoulders, "Hey!"

Nick fell hard on his bedroom floor and looked up as he watched Warrick slam the door shut again and lean against it, "Damn, Nick. Who the fuck are those guys!"

"I have no idea. Wanna help me up?"

Warrick leaned over and grabbed Nick's raised hand. He grabbed the other man's shoulder once he was on his feet and looked him over quickly. The shout had woken him up and he looked out past the black out curtains over the window to see people milling around in the yard. He wanted to make sure Nick was okay. It appeared there was nothing new.

The shorter CSI worked on getting his breathing under control when he heard the doorknob begin to shake. He unconsciously took a step backwards, away from the door. There were several voices outside in the hallway and they were trapped. He sensed Warrick leave his side, but did nothing about it.

It took only a few steps before Warrick stood next to the bedside table. His cell phone was smiling up at him. Warrick picked up the phone and began dialing before it fully opened. The ringing was annoying and he was almost hopping from foot to foot as he waited for a voice on the other end.

"Crime lab. How may I direct your call?"

"I need a CSI, Grissom, Catherine…anybody!"

The voice on the other end hesitated before thanking him and putting him on hold. He didn't want to try each number individually since he didn't know who he would be able to reach. Someone had to be at the lab. Warrick looked over to where Nick was standing, starring blankly at the shaking door.

"Nick, would you come over here, please."

Nick turned and looked over at Warrick. His body was frozen in shock and his arm was killing him from his recent fall onto the floor. Nothing was moving for him anymore. "Can't 'Rick."

"What do you mean you can't! Get your ass…"

"Excuse me?"

Warrick frowned and jerked his head slightly at the new voice in his ear, "Catherine?'

"Geez Warrick. What should I do with my ass?"

"Not you Catherine. I was yelling at Nick. We need help. Someone just broke into Nick's house and they are trying to get a hold of us. We're locked in the bedroom."

He could hear the gasp on the other end and Catherine yelling off at someone else. Warrick looked back at Nick and couldn't help, but gasping himself. Nick was taking steps _towards_ the damn door.

"Nick, what the fuck are you doing?"

"It's quiet out there."

"Trust me, man, they didn't leave. We're stuck. I have Catherine on the phone."

The Texan nodded his head, "They will get us before anyone else can make it."

Then, as if to accent Nick's words, something crashed into the bedroom window. Warrick swore and threw himself into the wall farthest from the now shattered window. The door began to shake even harder than before. Nick still stood in his place, eyes wide and hands shaking.

People were in his house, invading his home. Again! Flashes of Nigel came back into his head without his permission. This took all Nick's rational thought processes away. He could hear Warrick's voice yelling at him, but couldn't make out the words anymore. He was trapped within his own nightmarish world of past and now present.

"Nick! Shit man, get your ass over here!"

Someone was hitting the rest of the glass from the window. Warrick was wishing for his gun, but he had left it in his truck. Both men were unarmed and Nick seemed to be frozen in time. The hinges on the door were beginning to come out of their places. It was only a matter of moments.

"Catherine!"

The woman's voice was back on the phone and Warrick took advantage of it, "Catherine, they're almost in. We'll try to hold them off. Send help!"

Warrick slammed the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He glanced at the window as he walked to Nick's side. With a silent apology, he grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him back to the wall. Nick didn't put up much resistance, but he did wince once or twice.

"You got any more bats under the bed?"

"No, that was it. Nothing in the closet either," Nick calmed his breathing a little, but not much.

"Well, we are going to have a fight when they get in here. Are you ready?"

Nick nodded his head and tried to pull himself together the best he could. He knew he was freaking Warrick out, but he couldn't help it. This house was supposed to be a safe zone. Now, two different situations proved that wrong. Movement from the window drew his attention.

The glass had been cleared out and now they were able to enter. Both men were pressed against the other wall. In no time, two bodies were in the bedroom. The moment all four feet were on the carpeting, the black man lunged forward with a growl and seized one black cloak in two fists. The other cloaked figure didn't waste any time. He jumped to the door and turned the lock.

People were everywhere and Nick lost sight of his friend in the sea of black cloth. A small figure moved towards him and he threw out his good fist. It connected and he heard a feminine grunt. These were not all men. It surprised the CSI a little more than it should have.

Another body quickly took up the space and Nick tried to get off another hit. Two strong hands clasped around his forearm and pulled his weight forward. A fist connected, hard, with his already bruised face. Nick tried to fight it, but he didn't win. He landed hard on his knees and before he could move, hands leaned extra weight on his shoulders. The pressure sent a jolt of pain through his healing bones. Nick cried out.

Warrick took three of the black cloaks down when he heard the cry from Nick. He turned and saw the other man on his knees, two figures pressing him down. In this distraction, someone got off a lucky punch. It threw Warrick's head to the side and he felt his lip break. Someone grabbed him from behind. He threw himself forward and broke the hold.

He pushed his way towards Nick and rammed his body into one of the person's holding the Texan down. Nick yelped out as it jostled his arm again. Tears were beginning to gather in his eyes at the extra abuse. A black figure knelt in front of him. Nick tried to make out a face through the darkness.

"Who are you?"

A small, ringed hand reached out and touched his cheek, "You'll find out soon enough. For know, it is time to take a small nap."

Nick crinkled his brow at the announcement. He pulled at the hands holding him down, but couldn't break free. Fingers were tugging at the sleeve of his t-shirt. Cold air made the hair on his upper arm stand from the goose bumps. He didn't have anymore time to figure it out when he felt the prick of a needle jab into his skin. It was quick. His head fell forward.

Warrick knocked down another body. His own was protesting at everything, but he was going to keep going until they were free. There couldn't be that many more. Warrick took a deep breath as he turned to where he had last saw Nick. His friend was leaning forward, chin on his chest.

"Nick!"

"He won't be answering you. It would be best for you to get on your knees and stop fighting us," the voice was soft and sweet.

"Like hell!"

Several hands grabbed the CSI and pushed him down. The attackers were coming around from the blows they had suffered and they were pissed. None were gentle. Warrick cringed when he felt the needle plunge into his neck. His vision blurred and went dark.

Sharon watched as the black man's head fell forward before she removed her hood, taking in the bright sunlight. They had to get out of there. She motioned for everyone to grab some part of each man and they moved quickly. It wasn't much of a hassle to remove the men through the front door and into their van. They all piled in. Sharon looked up before she got in. Sirens could be heard heading in their direction.

TBC…


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Nothing like a good kidnapping to get the people to mass together! Thanks for all the great reviews for the last one. They were awesome and loved them all. So, in honor of all my reviewers, I give you this new chapter! Even with the awesome looking episode this evening! Alas, I do have some bad news…it will probably be at least Sun or Mon before I can get the next chapter up. I will be busy, it is my birthday on Sat. after all! But I promise something soon because (runs and hides behind the couch)…no Nick or Warrick in this chapter! I know! Sorry! Go read! Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#16**

Sam Vega stood in the bedroom and looked at the glass all over the carpeting. Nick and Warrick were no where to be found. Both their cars were here as were their shoes. Neither man left this townhouse under their own will power. And from what Catherine told him, there were a lot of people here to do it.

They had brought along Greg and he was standing in shock, staring at the bed. His two friends were gone. They had been grabbed in the safety of Nick's home. It chilled the younger man to his bone marrow. These were the people that killed all the others. Greg swallowed. It didn't look good.

"You should go help Catherine process. The house is clear."

Vega's voice broke through Greg's trance, "Yeah. We have to get these fuckers."

The detective had never heard the other man swear before and it shocked him. Of course he had choice words he would like to use and they were much more colorful than that, but he held them in. Emotions were not healthy at a crime scene.

Vega walked carefully out of the bedroom and headed for the front door. He would wait out in front for the CSI's to finish up their work. On his way, he ran into Brass and Grissom. They joined the many faces of worry and anger.

"What the hell happened?" Brass barked.

"Don't know. House broken into, both missing. Catherine and Greg are inside already."

Grissom didn't even bother with the two cops and went straight for the doorway. The blonde CSI was on her knees looking at the floor by the couch.

"What do you got Catherine?"

She looked up at the new arrival, "Hey Gil. Just have some dirt residue. And since Nick makes you take your shoes off at the door most of the time, I doubt it is from his or Warrick's shoes."

"Most likely. Where's Greg?"

"Right here," the new CSI walked out from where he was bent over in the kitchen, "What do you need?"

"I want you to figure out how they got in, how many at each entrance. Check the parameter and see if you find anything that matches the other houses."

Greg nodded, "Yeah, they did use the same vehicle at the White's and the Johnson's. Could have brought it here as well. I will look for tire treads."

Grissom watched as the other man left before he turned his attention back to Catherine, "Have you looked in the bedroom yet?"

"No, I started in here."

"Okay, I'll head in there and meet you in the middle."

He moved slowly down the hallway and into the bedroom. Grissom had been to Nick's for only a handful of occasions and only saw the bedroom once. It hadn't changed. He took a deep breath before he pulled out the camera. This was going to be another long process job.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Mia rubbed at her eyes. They were sore from all the microscope work she had been handed. The murder at the Johnson house had been bad and there were many swabs to go through. And it didn't help that Robbins gave her a few samples to work through as well. And she could hear Hodges talking to himself across the hallway.

So far all the swabs turned up to be the blood of the victim, Veronica Johnson. There were three more to go before she was done. Then she could go through the vials from the good doctor. She reached over and picked up the next one in her line. The work to get the test results was almost so routine that Mia could do it with her eyes shut.

The new sample paper printed out and Mia grabbed it. Her eyes widened a little at these results. The boy had bled at the crime scene. Mia dug through her notes to see where this samples had been collected. According to what Catherine had written, it was taken right next to the mother's body. There hadn't been much in this spot.

Mia puckered her lips out as she thought things over. Why would they grab the boy and kill the mother? It made no sense. He would be a hassle to take along and could cause problems. These people had plans for the boy. Couldn't be good ones, either.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The final stand was made in this room. Grissom had finished his work and stood back by the doorway. From the marks and the shifts in the carpeting, Nick and Warrick had been brought down in this room. He had samples from the broken window and a few blood spatters he found throughout the once safe bedroom. It all made his kit feel god awful heavy.

Catherine and Greg had already finished up their work and he had sent them back to the lab to begin the intricate processing procedures. The only other person left in this house with him was Brass. Grissom took a deep breath as he looked around the room, his imagination running wild.

_People swarmed into the house and took the two CSI's by complete surprise. They both ran and took cover in the bedroom since the front and back door were being converged upon. Nick locked the door behind them and they tried to find something to use in defense_

_Warrick grabbed up his phone from his pocket and made an urgent call to CSI. Catherine answered the phone, but soon heard only the end of a dead phone. The window was broken, the door opened. Nick and Warrick fought, but were soon over powered and taken down. Neither fought once they were caught. Either completely unconscious or…dead._

Grissom shook his head from these thoughts. He had always criticized the members of his team for jumping the gun. No one was present to see him make a complete hypocrite of himself. Never create a crime scene within your head. Always wait for the evidence to tell the tales.

Another exhale of warm air left his body as he turned around and left the bedroom in search of the wandering detective. He found the other man standing in the kitchen.

"I'm done. We can head back to the lab and meet up with Catherine and Greg," Grissom stated as he walked over to Brass.

"Anything?"

"No. All we know is they broke in using both doors and the bedroom window. Nick and Warrick were taken from the bedroom. Greg has tire treads that might match the other scenes and Catherine had soil stains from the carpeting. I have some blood and glass from the bedroom."

Brass nodded, "Well then, let's head on out. I'll lock things up here for Nicky. Only have some plastic for the window though."

The CSI clenched his fist tighter around the handle of his kit. He would have to remember to make some calls to get that window patched up. And to have all the locks changed. The sun was warm on his skin as he walked out from the protection of the house. Grissom wiped his chin and cheek against his shoulder with a roll of the joint.

He looked around at the other houses in the area. There was some distance between the various buildings, but not enough that someone wouldn't hear a shout or a scream. Grissom could see all the empty driveways and didn't feel confident anyone knew what had happened outside on their safe street.

"Daydreaming again?"

"No Jim. Just thinking about how no one is home and no one saw a thing."

Brass slapped a heavy hand on Grissom's upper back and walked over towards his car. The keys jingled in his hands, but it sounded duller than normal. He could hear the CSI following him, but there was nothing light in the steps. This was weighing them all down. But he didn't dare think that it shouldn't.

The doors of the Magnum sedan thudded closed as both men settled down into the seats. Brass turned the engine on and began heading back to the lab. He didn't feel in the mood to talk with the other person in his car, but he got the feeling was mutual. His fists clenched around the rubber covering the steering wheel as he thought about what had happened in the past couple of days.

People were dying and now two men, two friends, were missing. Those two boys were in trouble once again. Brass knew the tension settling in his stomach would not leave until both those CSI's were sitting in front of him, cowering from his lecture. And what a lecture it would be.

The large building containing the lab almost seemed to sneak upon the detective. Ask him and Brass was sure he wouldn't ever be able to tell how he got from Nick's to the lab. Grissom didn't seem interested since he got out of the car as soon as it was put into park. Brass shook his head and left to head to the station.

Grissom could hear the car leaving and walked into the lab. People passed him, but he didn't take in any of their details. His mind didn't want any new information from the outside world. What he needed was inside his head and waiting for him with his two colleagues.

He found them both with Mia in the DNA lab. None of them were smiling, or even moving for that matter. All seemed to be made of wax. It brought Grissom to a halt for a moment. He had seen emotions like these before, but only at funerals.

"What do we have?"

It was Mia that spoke up first, "Well, I have yet to inform you about the blood from the Johnson house. Most of it was the wife's, but the son's was also present. It wasn't much, but enough to know he was injured to most likely comply."

"And from Nick's?"

"I have just begun the work on the swabs Greg and Catherine dropped off. It should be about five more minutes to see if we have a match off any of them."

Grissom nodded, "And the trace evidence?"

"Hodges said he would drop everything else and get to work right away," Catherine said softly, "And he would come over as soon as he had anything on anything. Did you drop off your stuff?"

"Not yet. I'll walk over there quick and be back to here the results from the blood tests."

The supervising CSI turned on his heels and walked into the quiet trace lab. David Hodges was bent over and looking at something through the magnified lenses of the microscope. The man was focused on his work and Grissom hated to interrupt him from finding anything important.

"David?"

"Yes?"

"I have some more stuff from Nick's place for you to work with."

Hodges looked up, his eyes filled with concern that Grissom couldn't ever remember seeing on the other man's face, "I will get right on it as soon as I am done with these soil samples that Catherine gave me. So far all I have is matches to the soil collected from the backyard. Nothing exciting, I am afraid. Nothing foreign."

"Well, I have some glass fragments from the broken window that I need you to check for anything that shouldn't be on them. If you happen to find any blood, send it over to Mia right away."

The trace technician nodded his head and turned back to the samples he had been working with. People in the lab might think he didn't care about his coworkers, but that was not the case. Knowing that Warrick and Nick were missing, as much as they drove him nuts, scared him. And he didn't even want to think about the effect their loss would have on everyone.

Grissom watched him for a moment before he walked back out into the hallway. He stretched his arms above his head to try to ease some of the tension building between his shoulder blades. A groan left along with the vertebra popping. His entire body wanted to quite and throw in the towel, but his mind and heart wouldn't let him do anything close to that.

He turned to head back into the DNA lab when squeaky tennis shoes stopped him. He turned to face Archie Johnson as the surveillance expert ran up to him. This was surprising to Grissom since he didn't know they had any video on anything that was going on in their case.

"Hey boss. I have something from that call, " Archie smiled.

Grissom was completely confused with what the other was talking about, "What call?"

"Oh, the call Warrick made to Catherine. She gave me her phone before she left and told me to look into it. I checked it over to see if I could get any background noise from it. I cancelled out Warrick's yelling at Nick to see what I could get. There was some heavy breathing, shuffling noises, and distant voices coming through a thick substance. My guess is that the breathing and shuffling is Nick since Warrick was yelling at him to stop going towards the door and to get by his side. The other voices, the other people in the house."

"Alright, that is good. If there is anything we need from you, I will let you know."

Grissom turned to walk away, but was stopped by the other man, "Do you think they are okay?"

"Yeah, they will keep each other safe. They will be fine. We will find them," Grissom said to Archie, as much as to himself.

Archie gave a small smile before he headed back into his office. Not wasting another minute, he walked straight into the other lab with three very pale, concerned people. This did not look good at all.

"Results?"

Catherine nodded and turned to face her boss full on, " Two spatters are positive for Warrick, one for Nick. From the other three samples we took, no match. But there were three other people bleeding in that house today."

"Get the pictures developed and set up the scene. Greg, I want you to get to work on those treads you found. I want everything we have in thirty minutes, conference room. We are going to put this together and get our guys back."

Grissom took a look at the rookie CSI and tried to ignore the lost look. He knew this was tough on Greg, but he couldn't let his concern for the younger man to take him away from the case. Once this was over, he would make sure Greg was okay. He would make sure everyone was okay.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Sharon Walker stood by the van that they had parked outside the building, in the back by the wooden cellar doors that led into the basement. The cigarette in her hand was almost down to the filter, but she couldn't bring herself to drop it to the dirt. Her body was tired and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. But there was work to finish.

With one more long drag on the rolled up tobacco, she threw the still red butt to the ground. Her eyes drifted over the once vibrant red doors as she headed for the oak door leading into the main building. The wooden benches were occupied by various members of their group. None of them knew what was happening under their feet. They weren't ready to take part in this, yet.

She smiled and waved to a couple of the children as she walked past to Mr. Tenner's office. He was waiting for her there with the files. Sharon wasn't going to take part in tonight's lesson like she had with Brian or Ralph. Her faith only went so far.

Jacob Tenner looked up from the papers on his desk and watched the woman walk into his office. He always enjoyed watching her move. It always made him spend a few more minutes in the bathroom than normal in the morning. This was his secret treat of the day.

"What else do you need from me, sir?"

The elderly man rubbed his wrinkled hands together, "Nothing if you want no part in this. I can use some of the others. Besides, I think these two will be a problem for awhile. They are going to take some time to teach."

"Then I will take my leave."

"I will see you in practice in three days. Your service with the information will be rewarded greatly by the Fates."

Sharon nodded her head. She could feel the man's eyes on her ass she left the room. It was not a new sensation for her, but she would never turn away from it. Mr. Tenner had given her something that no one ever had been able to before.

The large hall was quiet, heads were down. People were praying to their various gods or goddesses. She always worshiped the Jewish God, but accepted the beliefs of Tenner into her life. As her feet carried her to the entrance doors, her eyes focused on the red, oak door with the newer handle. A chill ran through her entire body at what she knew would be happening through that wood very soon.

TBC…


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hi, hi, hi! Had a good birthday, thanks for the well wishes! I am here on Sunday mostly because of an email (you know who you are!) about how it was Sun. on her calendar. And for all those who missed Warrick and Nick, are you sure you want me to put them back in! They don't like me too much right now. Ah well, they have been asking for this the entire story. So, as always, let me know what you think about this chapter. I promise more to come, fairly soon. I do love suspense and drama after all. Thanks for reading and anything you have to say. And oh yeah, I wrote a quick One-Shot for Still Life that I am posting tonight as well. Take a look if you wish. Until next time, bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#17**

It was cold. And damp. The air was thick and almost seemed to hard to be able to pull through the nostrils. Warrick opened his mouth and sucked in as much air as he could. The pounding within his skull went away a little, but not all that much to be impressive. But he was ready to open his eyes.

Hazy, yet alert green eyes opened. For a moment, Warrick was frightened that whatever they shot him with in the neck had fucked with his optical sensory. It was dark and there were many shadows in the room, many appeared to be moving. Another deep breath chased some of them away and allowed the CSI to focus his pupils more.

There was no color in the room. From the straight forward view that Warrick currently had was nothing to behold. It appeared to be the stones walls of an old cellar. Made sense with the smell. He had been in a few cellars on cases before and this all fit with those memories.

Warrick forced his stiff neck into action and turned his head to look to his right. There were other noises in the room and he wanted to know what they were. His left hand tried to automatically come up to massage the tight muscles, but Warrick couldn't get it to move. A couple more pulls with both hands proved to show the uselessness of the two limbs. And the rope was chaffing his skin.

Several chairs, all empty, stood in place on the right side of the room. From the looks of it, Warrick figured he must be close to a wall. Slowly, he swiveled his head towards his left. The panoramic pass showed more chairs and finally some color. Two bodies were slumped in their own chairs.

The one closest to the tall CSI was the small, Mexican boy. Miguel Johnson was awake, but he was gagged with tears pouring down his flushed cheeks. His entire frame was caught in the throws of tremors. Warrick looked closer at his arms and noticed they too were captured behind his body, against the back of the chair.

Looking a little more to his left, Warrick finally took in the image of his partner. Nick was still unconscious, his chin resting forward so that his face was not completely visible. But from what Warrick could see, he wasn't happy. The Texan's pallor was pale and sweaty. Unlike him or the boy, Nick was tied up a little differently, to enclose the arm cast. The cast was tied tightly to his chest by three loops of rope, the good arm pulled backwards behind his body.

"Nick!"

There was no response from his partner, but Miguel began to try to jump up and down in his chair, "Calm down Miguel. I promise we will get out of this. I just need you to remain calm."

The kid stopped trying to pry himself from the chair, but his eyes were still wide in fear and question. Warrick didn't know what to say to the kid. He had no idea what to say to himself. Nick really needed to wake up and talk to him, soon.

"Miguel, I need to ask you something. Just nod or shake your head with the answer. Did you happen to see where they took us? Where we are?"

He watched closely and Miguel shook his head. Warrick felt his heart drop down to his stomach, "You see anything?"

Again, another shake. Warrick sighed and closed his eyes to hide his feelings from showing in his eyes to the lost child. Thoughts were running wild through his mind, but nothing staying in place long enough for him to do anything with them. He had no idea what to do. Panic swelled up like a beast.

A deep moan caught his attention and he opened his eyes back up. His first instinct was to look at Miguel, but he saw that the boy's attention was else where. Warrick followed his gaze and looked upon his partner. The Texan was moving his head.

"Nick! Hey man!"

Warrick watched as Nick's head rolled sideways off his chest. The other man's face was scrunched up in what appeared to be pain and confusion. But it still was nice to see Nick beginning to move in this nightmare.

But Nick had to disagree completely. His head felt like it weighed a couple tons and his arm felt like it was about to swell right out of its cast. There was someone rude enough to yell at him as he worked his way back to the living. Nick would have yelled back, but his tongue had forgotten how it was supposed to work.

He managed to get his head upright and opened blurry eyes. The images in front of him slowly swam into focus and the voice he was hearing was not in his head any longer. It was a soothing bass that he knew all too well. Warrick was freaking out again.

"War…" Nick had to attempt to swallow before another attempt, "Warrick, who hit me in the head?"

"More people than I can count man. How ya feeling?"

"Like someone hit me in the head, hard."

Warrick gave a little smile at the response, "Fine, have it your way. All I have to say is that we are in trouble here."

Nick simply blinked. Things were becoming clear and he finally realized there was yet another person in this dank room with them. His throat closed a little more at the sight of the kid tied up, fighting his bonds. No one that young should ever have to deal with things such as these. Adults forced too much on their young minds as it was. This would be too much.

"So, Warrick, man. Any brilliant ideas for this one?"

"Not yet," the other man shook his head slowly, "But we will think of something. We always do."

The Texan stretched his neck backwards before rolling his head on his shoulders. All his upper body muscles were tight and it was giving him a headache. He finally took in his study of the room they were in, but it took all of maybe a minute. Only souls were his, Warrick's, and lost little Miguel's. Chairs and lots of dust were the only other occupants. But he could make out the impression of two doorways.

"One of those has to lead out of here," Nick nodded his head towards the other wall.

Warrick took in the faint lines in the gloom, "And?"

"Well, we can use one."

"Seeing how we would need to have the ability to move to do so, I think you need another plan there Stokes."

"Always turning me down Warrick," Nick twisted his good arm and felt the restriction of the ropes holding him. It was tight, but the way it tied was not impressive. If he could get the one arm free, then he would be able to stand since the ropes around his body were not connected to the chair in any form that he could tell.

Miguel watched with wide eyes as the white man wriggled around in his chair. Grown ups were always supposed to be safe and help him when he asked. These two never did anything to him. In fact, Nick was nice and liked his tadpoles. Maybe these grown ups could save him.

The young eyes watched the CSI struggle, but even he could see it was a fruitless effort. A groan escaped the man and it sounded full of pain and frustration. His eyes were drawn away from the man when by the sound of a thud and creak. Miguel looked across every surface in the room, but stopped when he came across one of the doors. Puffs of dust emerged as the large object began to move, inwards.

This new movement also caught the attention of the two CSI's. Warrick's eyes got large at this new development. He knew the door would open sometime, but not this soon. They had no time to go over anything and get their plan of attack in line. This was not good.

As the door scraped against the floor of the room, it was clear to tell by the noises that it was made of metal. Nick twisted as much as he could to get a good look at what was outside of that door, but what he saw didn't give him any relief. Nothing more than black cloaks and more slabs of concert leading off into the dark.

Several figures marched into the room, but none of them came near any of the captives. From what Nick could tell, none even glanced in their direction. His eyes quickly counted nine figures. Only one had some silver etched into the hood of his cloak. That one was not present at his house during the attack on him and his partner.

Chairs screeched as they were shifted into different positions. There were no extra ones. Everyone had a person sitting straight in them. And they formed a semi circle around the head cloaked person and the three people sitting in complete confusion.

"What's going on? Who are you?" Warrick couldn't keep quiet anymore. He was getting more and more nervous at this situation. None had said anything and all were now starring in their direction.

Nick shook his head at the questions. Only Warrick would ask such stupid questions in such a position, "How about letting us go?" He raised his eyebrows at his own question. Never hurt to try.

A chuckle shook the edges of the hood lined with silver. Whoever was underneath was about average height and now most certainly male. Black shoes pointed out from the cloth as the man walked closer to Nick. The Texan pulled his head up, but leaned it back a little at the approach.

"You are going to get a new lesson in life here gentlemen. I wouldn't waste your time or breath on asking stupid questions. Only take the time to answer ours."

The voice had age behind it. Something in the tone reminded Warrick a little of Grissom. But when the hood was pulled back, the face reminded him of something else.

"Mr. Tenner!"

Nick had never seen the man before and was confused with how the other CSI knew who he was, "Warrick?"

"We have never met have we, Mr. Stokes? I am Jacob Tenner and this is my establishment. Your CSI team came to see me and learned a little about what we do here. Both of you are going to learn the rest."

"So you brought us to your church! But the entire department knows where it is! Brass was in it himself."

Mr. Tenner simply shook his head and grinned, "Even if they do put it all together and come back, they will not find you. This room is not part of the actual building. I had it put in when I bought it. No blueprints of it and no way to find the correct way in."

The elderly man walked closer and reached out his hand towards Nick. The wrinkled hand rested softly against the skin of the Texan's cheek. Tenner leaned forward so Nick could feel the man's breath brushing its way across his lips. Nick tried to keep it together, but couldn't stop his eyes from widening in fear and panic.

"Hey! Get away from him!" Warrick pulled against the ropes though he knew it would be pointless. He didn't like the look Nick was getting in his brown eyes.

It took only a moment more, but the man eventually stood back up and took a step away from Nick. Warrick locked his eyes on his partner's face, but was relieved to see some of the panic disappear. Confusion and fear still were clear.

"You both have a lot for us to use and all I have is your files from work. We will begin simply."

"What files?"

"One of my followers walked right into your precious CSI lab and was able to get both your personal files right under your boss' nose."

Several of the people in the chairs stood abruptly and caused Nick to jump a little against his bonds. This was more than he could follow and he still didn't get how Tenner knew who Warrick was. The other man had never said a word about going to a church.

"Hey master," one of the other black figures in the room lifted a pale hand into the air, "Aren't we beginning too soon?"

Tenner turned and looked at the other person before turning his gaze back onto Warrick, "You are right. We have to wait, just a little longer."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine sat in the tight backed chair as she waited for Grissom to show up for this little meeting that he pulled together. Greg was already there and he was munching away nervously on a candy bar. They had everything laid out on the table in front of them. Both were hoping Grissom would be able to put it all together so they would be able to get Nick and Warrick back from whoever took them.

It was hot in the room, but she wasn't willing to have the door left open for this one. Anyone might walk past. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the wooden top. Their boss was officially three minutes late to this meeting. She would give him two more before she would get the cell phone out. Then hell would be made to pay.

Greg tried to ignore the stress and tension that was rolling over him like a cement truck from Catherine, but it was hard. He wasn't used to this and didn't know what to say to make her feel better. Most likely he would say something and she would jump all over him. That was not something he would be able to handle right now.

The hand on the clock moved. One more minute. Catherine reached for her phone so she would be prepared when that hand moved again. He may be their boss, but Grissom needs to understand punctuality when it comes to something of this importance. There were no excuses in her mind at all for this.

As she prepared to speed dial, the door to the room opened slowly and Grissom slid his way into the room with no greeting or any sound at all. Four eyes, two stares remained glued to his figure as he walked to a chair and at himself down. He looked up to different expressions, but both with the same fear and uncertainly lying underneath all the other layers.

"Sorry, I know I am late to my own meeting so nothing needs to be said," he looked right into the glare he was getting from Catherine, "But I promise it was of importance."

"Do we get to learn about this great importance? After all, Greg and I have been waiting so patiently for you to arrive," Catherine's lip went up as she snapped at the man.

"Not yet."

It was simple and clear. Catherine felt the air rush from her lungs and felt her face relax from the snarl she could feel forming there. Her body leaned heavily back into the chair. She was lost again.

"So what is it you wanted the three of us to do here?"

"We need to put everything together so we can get our connections straight. The only way we will find Nick and Warrick quickly is if we get it all straightened out."

Greg leaned forward onto his elbows, "Okay, but where do we start?"

"I have always been one for beginnings myself," Grissom said as he reached for some papers. There was a lot to go over, but the start of everything began with the first two victims. He needed Mrs. White and now known Kevin Starr.

"Alright, let's begin with our two cases from this mess. We have Mrs. Sherie White who was burned in her own home with ignition with a lighter fluid. She was the start of the blaze and it has been documented as her COD. And from what we know, Kevin Starr was at the home for part of this process since he has the same fluid on parts of his body. But at some point, he was dragged from the house and put into a large vehicle."

"Yeah, from what I found from the database, it is most likely a conversion van," Greg added quickly.

"But the boy was alive for all of this. Mr. Charlie Johnson came in either from the start or at this point in this plan with his so-called wife's brother's dogs. Both these animals mauled and killed young Kevin. The boy's body was dropped at Freedom Park."

"By the same vehicle," Greg ruffled some papers in his search, "I looked over the pictures you took of the treads and they match perfectly to the ones in the White's yard."

Grissom nodded, "But at some point, Mr. Ralph White was murdered in a neighbor's hot tub. My guess is he was present for the murder of the other two and something went wrong. Maybe he regretted it and wanted to go to the cops, but whatever it was, he had to go. Or he may have been killed between his wife and Kevin. The timeline of the deaths is hard to place due to the causes."

"So, we know the three of them were all murdered about the same time, but where does our yellow paint vic come in?" Catherine scrunched up her forehead in thought.

"Oh, but we aren't done with the first three yet. The reason I was late is that I ran into Andrew on my way in and he gave me some new information that just came to light. He remembered talking with Brian Dubois in front of the White's house. The man played the concerned neighbor. He was left behind to make sure that the girl was dead. And Mr. Johnson made it so his kid along with his friends found the other victim to ensure death in that as well."

"The kids were used as a ploy to make sure we wouldn't go after Johnson because why would his kid find the body if he killed him. But he didn't think we would have those lists for the church," Greg pondered aloud.

"Exactly," Grissom moved to the front of his chair and rested his hands together on the table, "And once Andrew released Dubois and told him to go home with the others, the man went to his home and helped plan a new murder in his pool. Brett Mueller was drowned in the pool with yellow paint brought in on a large truck. But remember the watch that Nick found in the bottom of the Furber hot tub? Mia was able to get some skin samples from it and it was a match for Mueller. He had been present at Mr. White's murder. And we did find other tread marks on our second pass through the yard of Dubois home."

Greg nodded at the glance, "Matches the other two."

"And once the man was dead, he was moved into his car and placed away from the house. Dubois and others cleaned the pool. Though once again they didn't plan on us having the lists."

"So, White and Mueller were both present to at least one murder then ended up dead themselves. And now Dubois is worried someone is going to come after him and kill him as well. What do you think is making these people turn on themselves?" Catherine questioned.

Grissom shrugged and rubbed his hands together, "That I don't know yet. Neither man is talking to us anymore. Both are afraid and seeing how Mrs. Johnson is now also dead with her son missing, I believe Mr. Johnson would be next, as soon as he is released that is."

"Well, what is the big connection between all these people?" the newest CSI had too many different names running through his mind to keep it all clear.

"All of them are members or know members of the Church of Gods. They are all on the list and after talking with the minister, they are forced to connect to each other. But how it leads to murder I have yet to figure out."

The three all slumped back and left the silence hanging in the air. It was a lot to think about and sort through. They had no reason for members of whatever group this was to be killed by their fellow members. And for what purpose.

Catherine slapped her hands on the table, "I think we need to make another trip to that so-called church and have another chat with Tenner."

"That would make the most sense. Nothing from Nick's house is enough to have a name, but I am quite positive it has something to do with this group."

Chairs scrapped against the tile as their chairs were pushed out, but they were all stopped by a cell phone ringing. Each CSI reached for their phone and fumbled to get it open. It was Grissom's phone that was the target for the call.

Catherine and Greg stood to wait for the call to end. The blonde CSI watched her boss as he spoke to the person on the other end. Judging by the facial lines, it wasn't someone that Grissom knew. The man's answers were short and curt, nothing showing though. It was not comforting.

Grissom snapped his phone shut and closed his eyes, "I have to go alone."

"What!"

"It was a call from the station. Apparently someone has gotten in touch with Charlie Johnson so he would be able to make a call to me. I have to leave alone and go to the meeting place alone. Or they will send us Nick in a cardboard box."

TBC…


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Well, I want to get this thing completely posted before I take off for a week of vacation so I guess this is good news for all of you. In order to do this, I need to post every other day! I know, what am I thinking! I know you all love the suspense of holding off for a few days between chapters. So, lets get going and see what happens with all the guys in this super long chapter. And, oh yeah, for those who wanted Grissom to learn about what Ecklie did, read on! Thanks for all the reviews and I hope this doesn't disappoint. And, due to the schedule, see you all on Thurs! Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#18**

Grissom pulled on his coat with a heavy sigh. After he got back with those two, every one of his CSI's was going to be locked up with him having the only key. He tried his hardest to ignore the holes Catherine was piercing into his back as he got ready to leave. The call from Charlie Johnson was only four minutes ago, but he was on a time limit. He had sixteen more minutes to go.

Fantasy Park was over on Washington so it wouldn't take too much time to get to the sight. Grissom had driven past the mini desert in the middle of the city before and was always intrigued by the property. It was nothing more than a bunch of trees and shrubs locked up behind a chain link fence. There were gates to enter, but the CSI had never seen anyone within the park before. He kept meaning to go one day on his own.

The weight of his keys in his hand felt good and helped to ground him to the situation. He turned from his locker with a flick of his wrist. Catherine didn't even blink at the slam of metal on metal. Her eyes were intense, but she kept her words to herself. Grissom nodded his head and left the locker room.

Greg Sanders was leaning against the wall outside the doorway. His gaze was downward, but his entire posture was screaming for some kind of attention from Grissom. The older man didn't know what to say or do to ease this any for the other man. Grissom looked straight ahead and walked right past the former lab technician without a word. He was going to do this without any words with anyone.

But, like most things, nothing worked out for Grissom like he planned. Conrad Ecklie always knew how to get in the way of everything, no matter how important. The lab director stared him in the eye and effectively blocked his path.

"And where do you think you are going? As far as I know, you don't have your case finished yet."

"If you would check your messages, you would know there has been a change in the case."

"That would be?"

Grissom clenched his jaw, "Warrick and Nick are missing. They were taken from Nick's house and I just received a call to go alone to find them."

"Does that seem wise?" Ecklie raised an eyebrow.

"To get my guys back, yeah. It is the wisest thing I can think of right now. What are you going to do? Have you checked into any unusual activity lately? Someone knew where to get them."

Ecklie went completely silent. A frown erupted on his brow and his lower lip was worried between his teeth. He suddenly remembered that woman, the one from the mayor's office. From what he learned, she had only look at a few files.

"There was a woman. She said she was with the mayor's office and that she had to look through our files. I gave her full access so that she could get down and leave."

"Did you call and check on this?"

"No."

Grissom blew, eyes bright with rage, "You let a woman come in without knowing who she is or who she is working for! And you allow her to access private files! Now Nick and Warrick are missing, possibly dead! If anything happens to either of them, you are going to have to deal with me."

"That is uncalled for. You cannot talk to me like that," Ecklie stood to his full height and puffed out his chest a little.

"I can talk to you any way I like. You gave them to whoever these people are. You signed their death certificates. Be prepared for the consequences," Grissom growled before he turned his back to the director.

The early afternoon sun was harsh on his skin. Sweat began to bead up on his forehead and his upper lip. Grissom resisted the urge to roll both lips together. His SUV waited in his normal spot right in front of the lab. He pulled himself into the seat and started up the ignition.

The drive was easy going, but Grissom still held the steering wheel in a death grip. Images were running through his head and he didn't like any of them. The parking lot of the half mile park was deserted as Grissom pulled his black truck onto the barely lighted concrete. His instructions were to park in the spot directly by the tree leaning against the fence. It wasn't a hard spot to find.

Some shade wafted over the vehicle, but Grissom still kept the air running on high. A quick glance at his watch proved to show he was two minutes early. There were no other instructions at this stage so Grissom rested on hand on the gun he strapped to his hip and the other on his cell phone. He was not going down without some sort of fight if it came to it.

A clunk against the entrance drive to the parking lot attracted Grissom's attention. There was a large, brown conversion van pulling up next to him. No one was in the passenger seat and the driver's face was hidden from view by a thick, black cloak. The sliding door was opened. Two more people were in the back, also cloaked.

Grissom turned off the engine and slowly opened his door to get out. As soon as the door unhinged, both people were out of the van and grabbing his arms. The CSI pulled at their hold, but the hands were tight.

"Where are my guys?"

One of the hooded figures raised their head enough that they were probably looking Grissom in the eyes, "You will know soon enough."

It was a deep tenor. These were both men holding him. One hand released from his wrist and reached down to grope at his hips. His gun was removed and handed off to the driver.

"Is that it?"

"Yes," Grissom nodded.

"Alright. Put your phone and keys on the seat. Lock the doors and shut it up. You are coming with us."

Grissom complied with their orders and didn't pull away when they began to move him into the back seat of the van. He was forced to sit between the two figures as the van pulled away from the safely of his truck and cell phone.

The windows in the van were covered by a thick curtain leaving only the windshield and rear window open to view out of. Many of the buildings were ones Grissom never had seen before and he didn't get any clear shots at street signs. As the van began to slow, one of the men leaned over close enough the hood brushed his cheek.

"Get your head between your knees."

The CSI turned a confused expression towards the man, but didn't have much of a chance to ask about it. A hand grabbed the back of his neck from behind and jerked his body forward. The momentum was almost enough to throw him from the seat to the floor. Speed was picked up a little now that he couldn't see anything any more.

Blood rushed to his ears and Grissom began to feel a little car sick. He had never been forced to sit like this in a car before and it was not a new experience his body liked. Just as he was about to force himself upward, the van pulled into a rocky road or driveway judging by the new tossing. The brakes squealed in protest as it was parked and the engine was killed.

The hand still rested on the back of his neck and his skin began to crawl. A loud thud sounded as the sliding door was thrown open with little ceremony. The man to his right leaned out of the van, but quickly reached back in to grab Grissom's wrists. His head went up, against the other hand. No one seemed concerned that he could see his surroundings again. But, regretfully, he didn't recognize a thing.

They were parked behind a fairly old building that had a back entrance way and wooden doors leading down in to what was probably a cellar. There were many trees and bushes, nothing that clicked in his mind as to their location. Grissom watched as the driver of the van walked to those wooden doors and slammed his foot down on top of them for two hits.

"Anyone follow us?" the last cloaked man asked as he walked up to stand behind Grissom.

"Nah, nothing. I watched all the cars and nothing stayed with us long. Plus, with the short drive, it would've been hard to miss."

Grissom held his tongue. He jumped slightly when one of the doors by his feet swung back to reveal yet another cloaked figure. It was clear he would learn no faces yet. Hands were on his body again as he was propelled forward.

Stairs lead downward and from the look of them, they were not used often. There wasn't much light so Grissom took his time in getting his footing before he moved to a new step. None of his capturers seemed interested in making him move any faster anyways. All were taking it easy since a fall on these cement steps could likely mean death.

It was thirteen steps before they were brought up against another door. Whoever had allowed them access to the stairs was now standing in front of these doors as well. This person was shorter than the others and appeared to be much frailer. A small, delicate hand reaching for the door knob convinced Grissom this new cloak was a woman.

"Get inside. And you don't have permission to speak."

Grissom allowed them to lead him inside the dark room. It smelled of sweat and blood. Pain and fear. His pupils took a moment to adjust to the thickness of the room. He looked purposely around, trying to find any distinctive detail that might give some sort of location. But he was stopped up short.

Tied up and, now, gagged were his two missing CSI's. Warrick was struggling against his ropes and attempting to make speech around the cloth in his mouth. And Nick was simply sitting still, jaw tight. Between the two men was a young boy of Hispanic origin, but Grissom didn't know who he was.

"Why are they here? What's going on?"

Several people moved and a new figure walked forward. This man Grissom knew, "Mr. Tenner?"

"That would be correct. Welcome. I promise all your answers will be found once we begin. Please, take a seat," the elderly man waved his hand towards a single chair situated in front of his two CSI's.

Grissom looked skeptically at the chair offered to him. No way could he trust these people. His entire posture remained tense, feet locked in place. The older man in front of him smiled brightly. Grissom couldn't believe someone could smile like that in this situation.

"Very well, Doctor Grissom. You may not wish to follow my instructions, but I must warn you now, this will not play out nicely. After all, I asked politely."

Once the words were finished, three cloaked figures moved to stand in front of the three captives in their own chairs. It was the one in front of Warrick that reacted first. A black hand shot out from underneath the cloth and backhanded the tall CSI across the left cheek.

Warrick groaned at the impact, but it really wasn't anything too impressive. He was still in too much shock from seeing Grissom being dragged down into their new living hell. From the curses mumbled by Nick, his partner had similar thoughts to what he did. Only Miguel didn't get what was going on.

Mr. Tenner was watching Grissom closely to gauge his reaction to the mistreatment. It was disappointing to not even see a flinch. Things would need to go up a notch. He waved his hand to signal the next person. The slap against little Miguel's face was music to his ears. But the other man standing next to him didn't seem to enjoy any of it. It was sad.

"Still not going to sit?"

He was split in half. Grissom wanted to sit and end this pointless torture of his team and the boy, but he also knew it was as good as done as soon as his pants hit the seat of the chair. There was another wave from Tenner and, as expected, the man in front of Nick moved. This one was a little more ambitious. A closed fist connected hard with the already black mess on Nick's face.

Pain radiated through the Texan's face at the slam. A voice in the back of his was laughing at him and the luck he had to get the one asshole with an iron fist. It was disgustingly predictable. And the worst thing, it was enough to get Grissom into the chair.

"I am glad you finally decided to comply. Things will go so much smoother if you do as you are told. You are all going to learn a great deal about yourselves and each other in these hours we spend together."

There was loud shuffling in the room as everyone still on their feet took a seat. Grissom watched and quickly took a head count. There were seven people in this room besides him, Warrick, Nick, and Miguel. He watched with sharp eyes as Tenner walked over to Nick and grabbed his chin.

Nick tried to pull away from the hand, but it was tight and there were a few nails that dug into his skin. His head was pulled up so the elderly man could look at the damage his man had done. The eyes raked the tender flesh, a finger dragged softly across it. A chill ran straight up Nick's spine into the back of his head. His body was going cold.

"You do seem to bruise fairly easy. I wish to see exactly how easily."

Nick focused his eyes long enough to shot a glare at the older man, "You're making a mistake."

Tenner chuckled and lightly tapped the bruised cheek, "I think not…Nicky? Isn't that what they call you in times of sadness or joy? I noticed it was marked a few times in your file."

The CSI ripped his head away from the hand and focused on the ground. He could feel Warrick's concerned expression resting on him, but he didn't want to risk looking for him. This man knew things about him that only his closest friends should only know it seemed. Things that were supposed to be safe in that damn file. It was beyond unnerving.

"Well, enough of the games. I am ready to begin. Shaun, will you come here?"

Grissom torn his gaze from Nick long enough to see which of the cloaks answered the call. It was the man still standing close to Warrick, the one that had hit the CSI, that walked over to Tenner's side. This man was tall. He seemed to almost tower over Tenner, but from his posture, it was clear he was taking the orders.

"Would you please grab my briefcase for me. I left it besides the door. And have the boy removed."

Shaun walked swiftly and returned with the black bag in his right hand. He placed it carefully on the small pedestal that Grissom had missed earlier. It was a dark wood and it blended easily with the décor of the rest of the room. Now that he knew it was there, it was easy to pick out.

Another figure came forward and released the ropes from around Miguel's wrists. The boy looked terrified and tried to fight. The man was too large and the poor boy lost the batter. Grissom watched as he was taken through the door they had brought him in through. None of them wanted to guess the boy's fate.

The elderly man removed a key from a pocket under his cloak and inserted it into the small lock. A quick flick of his wrist and the top popped open. There was nothing inside, but a bunch of papers. Warrick craned his neck to try for a better view, but his angle was not the greatest. From the look on Nick's face, he was pretty much in the same boat.

Tenner grabbed up three different papers, all different colors. Warrick had seen his personal file and never remembered the different colors. It must have been something new with whatever Tenner had done. His smile grew at whatever it was he was reading. Warrick really didn't like the look of that smile.

"It seems that I have enough on each of you to last awhile," Tenner ran a finger across his chin, "Like this for example. It seems that someone decided to stalk you Nick. He lived in your attic and watched everything you did. Then, he killed a man by throwing him into the living room. Held a gun in your face and then tried to kill himself with it. Interesting. That man would have been welcome here."

Nick's face drained of all color as the words tumbled out. Everyone in the room was listening closely to what their leader was saying. Strangers were learning things about his personal life, again. He pressed his lips together to stop any comments from slipping out and embarrassing him any further.

"I would have to say, that must make you quite uncomfortable around people you don't know. And it says you were reluctant to get any extra help from anyone. Don't like to share your problems with others it would seem. No one to share your pain with you, see your pain. I can teach you through that."

Warrick growled as he watched his partner turn slightly green, "Leave him the fuck alone!"

"And you Warrick Brown," Tenner pivoted his body so he was now facing the tall CSI, "You have issues turning off the guilt and blame yourself for many things. Many things that happen to our Nick here. And you are afraid to put yourself out there for someone completely. Afraid to hurt them, yourself."

"He is not your Nick. We are not your puppets!"

"I beg to differ. You see, we have many gods, but two are the most important to us. There are two things that can bring any being down, no matter who they are. All you need to do is find a way in and then you can do whatever you want to anyone. The Greeks were the first to give official names to these powerful Gods. Many of the religions before then focused on the idea of fear and panic being emotions that only a human could control. It was the Greeks that knew better. Fear and panic could be caused by the simple playing of the great Deimos and Phobos.

And we are going to use their teachings and powers to reach inside the three of you. Outsiders are always harder to work with, but it is possible. It worked well with the White's after all. Fear and Panic will enjoy devouring the three of you."

Grissom sat straighter, "But you would know then that these two gods were not considered anything important, not as you make them out to be."

"What!"

"Neither of these beings was accepted on Mount Olympus. In fact, it was said they were banished to work with Zeus' brother, Ares. After all, they were his sons through his relationship with his half-sister, Aphrodite. They pulled him into battles and fought under his name, not their own."

Tenner's face turned red throughout Grissom's passage. He was angry that someone would have the nerve to attack his gods with such false words, "They had more power than the rest of those o-called gods. No one wanted to admit to it so they gave more focus on that whore love goddess or the disgraceful sun god. Death welcomed both Phobos and Deimos into his world through War."

"As did he welcome light," Nick lifted his head, "Hades fell in love with Demeter's daughter, Persephone. He made a deal to keep her for half the year, when the world died and became brown. It was the reason given for winter. Demeter was so devastated at the loss of her daughter, she let the world slowly die until her kin was released from Death. He understood that Pain and Fear needed to be balanced. This allowed people to be able to overcome and move on."

Warrick was confused. He knew Greek mythology and had heard about these two gods, but he had never heard of anyone bracing them so tightly. These were not gods for the modern age. All he knew was this guy was insane and no matter what excuse he said, he was going to need to be arrested and soon.

"You simply do not understand. By the end of all this, you all will. There will be no sunshine waiting for you. No sunshine when you're gone. Death will be open armed most likely. His friends will see to it."

Grissom could tell by the other man's posture that they had made him extremely angry. The lead CSI had learned over the years that it was not safe to play with someone's beliefs, especially when they were at this level. Tenner held his beliefs close to his heart and didn't know anything else. No one would be let off lightly for such harsh words.

"I am going to show you what your greatest fears can do to you. They are going to take you apart and you will beg for death before we are done. We have done it with all the others. None of you are going to be able to fight your way out of this," Tenner snarled as he stalked over to another bag resting against the wall.

Shaun and another figure moved forward and grabbed Grissom by his shoulders. He was forced from the chair and held in place as it was moved. A third person placed it right in front of where Warrick was sitting. Grissom didn't try to fight as he was pushed back into it. Rope was looped around his wrists and was pulled tight.

The tall CSI located Grissom's gaze and asked with his eyes what he should be doing. Warrick was not impressed by the look he got back in response. He always wished Grissom would get more emotional and hot headed in these kinds of situations. It wouldn't make his reactions seem so out of place then.

Tenner once again approached Nick. He couldn't understand it, but he was being drawn to this younger man. It had only happened once before in his life and that hadn't turned out well for that other man in that situation. Something about this CSI screamed for attention from his gods. They wanted his blood. His panic. His fear.

"You have quite a past Nick. Guns, stalkers, pain. Your fear was not quite as apparent as most. No dogs or yellow paint in your tells. No, you have something more. Your fear is simply that you fear."

Nick pulled away from the hand that forever seemed to be hovering around his face. He was confused by what Tenner was rambling on about. "There is nothing to fear, but fear itself. Everyone knows something along that line."

"Ah, but you don't fear simple fear. It is your own. You do not wish to show emotion too deeply, don't want to rely on others. But most of all, weakness is something you dread. Your fear is showing fear."

Warrick was sick of this, "You are full of shit man. You might as well give it up."

"But I know how to get your fear as well," Tenner smirked as he again grabbed Nick's chin in his hand, "You are responsible for his broken arm, no? You hold guilt close and don't let it go. It is written all over your report about the incident outside the hot tub. You fear causing others pain or hurt as I said before. Especially this brother of yours."

His chin was caught in a surprisingly tight grip so Nick could only move his eyes to focus on Warrick. Nick almost smiled at the expression that Warrick had. The friends he had. The fingers dug into his jaw bone more and he was forced to look back at Tenner.

"Mike, would you please release Warrick and bring him over to me."

A short, sturdy figure stood from a chair in the back. This man looked like a brick wall with the black cloak on. Warrick crinkled his nose when he felt the hands brush across his skin as the ropes were loosened and taken off. He didn't have much more time for thought as he was pulled upright to his feet.

"Move!"

Warrick tried to struggle, but he knew there was little he could do being the only one free. And Tenner still had his hands on his partner. Mike forced him to stand almost on top of the shorter, older man. Warrick looked down into Nick's eyes and saw the same uncertainty he was sure he had on his face.

"Now, I want you to hit him."

This announcement caught Warrick's full attention and forced his eyes to widen more than was probably healthy. Nick's face drained of all color right before his eyes. He vaguely heard the protests of Grissom off to his side. This was too odd for him at this moment.

"What!"

Tenner smiled and released Nick' face, "I want you to hit him. And no babying him. I want you to mean it. Hit him like I am sure you want to hit me."

"No!"

"You don't, and something worst will happen. His death can come at any point. Nick will die, it is up to you whether it is right now or later."

Warrick shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest tightly. He was not going to hit Nick. Nothing could make him lift a hand against his brother. They would have to shoot him first.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes drew his attention to where Shaun and his buddy moved to. They held something. Warrick couldn't make it out. But Grissom could.

"Warrick…" it was almost whispered.

It happened quickly and Nick barely had time to breath. The riding crop lashed into the skin of his cheek. Nick's head recoiled from the impact, but it was the rush of air from his lungs that hurt the most. His mouth opened in order to suck in the precious gases, but another hit to the back of his skull took the skill away from his momentarily.

Warrick made to jump forward to attack Shaun, but Mike and the other figure quickly grabbed him by the arms and held him still. The second hit made him see red and he almost broke free from their grasps. But these men were big and strong. They were not going to stop fighting.

"Leave them alone!" Grissom's words floated over the scene.

Tenner threw his hand up, "Enough. Now Warrick, are you going to take action and follow my instructions or should I simply allow Shaun to continue?"

The grips on Warrick's arms slackened a little, but not enough for him to pull free. Both men would grab him tight again if he tried to do anything other than listen to the demented old man. He could hear the groans of pain that Nick was emitting. His partner slowly lifted his face and Warrick was able to see the red blotch now standing out amidst the blues and blacks. Warrick found the Texan's eyes and immediately regretted it.

"No," Warrick stated deeply.

Nick shook his head, no more than a simple jerk to each side, "Just do it man. Get the shit over with."

The taller CSI looked over to Grissom for a look of wisdom. He didn't know what to do in this situation and hoped the other man did. The look of pain and worry was out of place on Grissom's face. It was almost too scary in this situation. Warrick had to look away.

But his eyes now took in the sardonic smile of Jacob Tenner. His fists involuntarily clenched into fists, thumbs tucked under his fingers. This was only the beginning of this torment, but Warrick knew now he was not going to make it through it. Whatever was going to happen in the near future was going to be enough to end him. And possible make him take Nick out as well.

"I'm sorry," Warrick choked out around his heart in his throat.

Nick nodded and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see his friend's eyes as he was forced to hit him. And he was sure Warrick didn't want to see his either. Enough pain would be clear enough through the lines of his mouth and forehead.

"Do it," Tenner rubbed his hands together, "And remember, no faking it."

Warrick spared one more glance to Grissom before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It felt as it something was squeezing his lungs together and his chest hurt. He opened his eyes and took in the waiting face in front of him. His left hand clenched tighter as he judged the best way to do this. There was no best way.

He pulled his fist back and tried to aim the best he could for the fleshiest part of Nick's cheek. His aim was thrown off by the pained moan his body couldn't stop from making. The bones in his knuckles cracked hard in the slam with Nick's cheek bone. Warrick pulled away quickly, but the force had been enough to shot Nick's head backwards to the point it almost hit the back of the chair.

Horrified, Warrick made to back away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him, "Do it again."

Nick shook his head to clear out the stars dancing in front of his eyes. Pain shot through his entire eye socket. Warrick sure had a mean punch. He couldn't hear over the humming in his ears. Nick wasn't ready for the next hit.

"Do it again!"

Warrick jumped at the repeated demand and without thinking, sent his other fist flying. It impacted with hard bone and soft flesh. Whispers filled his ears. Warm breath brushed his neck as the black ghosts flittered around him. Chills ran up and down his spine. He couldn't get away from this. It ate away at his flesh, his being.

"That's it! Do it again! Again!" a shrill voice screamed out.

"Yeah, make him pay!"

Tenner roared, "Hit him!"

Laughter filled the room behind him. Grissom was calling for this to end. Rage soared through his body. Warrick couldn't get the red out of his vision. Someone needed to pain for what was happening to him. These people were messing with him friends. Whispers filled his ears once again. They were calling for pain. They wanted a show. His brain lost all logic as the words filled it. His blood boiled.

And his fists demanded punishment. They flew on their own accord now. He didn't register the wetness slowly covering his fingers or the cries of pain. The needle prick in his neck was nothing more than a mosquito bite through his rage.

TBC…

**Additional Note**: I am sorry if any thing in this chapter insulted anyone. This is fiction and none of it is meant to be taken to heart. If you are bothered by this religion/cult, please accept my apologies. And to those of you who know Greek/Roman mythology, this is just one of the many stories about these two Greek gods. Worked the best with the story. Thanks!


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hmm, the last chapter seemed to be tough for people. Maybe…you shouldn't read this one then either. 'Tis another tough one (rating stands full for this one!). So, those weak of heart, maybe you want to go back and read, say, chapter 6 instead of this one. But thanks for everyone who made it this far and filled me in on their thoughts. If you venture forth and read this next addition, drop me a line and let me know what you think. I am still tweaking the ending so I can adjust it some more. Thanks for reading and see everyone on the wonderful day that is Sat. Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#19**

Catherine stalked the halls of the lab. She didn't know what she was looking for or what she needed, but her feet made the decision to keep moving. Grissom had been gone for almost two hours now. It was two hours too long. And the cop escort hadn't done their job. They lost the CSI even before Grissom reached that park.

Worry ran throughout her blood and it called for action. But there was nothing to do. They had nothing. Nick and Warrick were missing with Grissom now along for the ride. She could only hope they were all together. It was the only thing she was willing to hope for at that moment.

Her feet took her on her second pass of Ecklie's office. This time the man inside too interest and Catherine was stopped by the calling of her name. No matter how many times she entered this room, she couldn't stop the involuntary tensing of her entire frame.

"Catherine, have a seat." Ecklie waved his hand and curved up one side of his mouth.

She pulled on the back of the chair and lowered her body down into it, "What can I do for you Conrad?"

The balding man in front of him rubbed a hand across the skin of his forehead as he cleared his throat, "I was just wondering how your case was going? With Grissom missing now as well, you are in charge of this."

Catherine couldn't believe the man across the desk. He sounded so bored with the situation. This man didn't seem to care about the loss of three CSI's at all.

"We are working on it, but we also have missing persons now. Greg and I are working on it."

"Good. I will let you get back to work then," Ecklie picked up his papers again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

With a sigh of disgust, Catherine got out of the chair and walked quickly from the room. He blew her off and the entire graveyard crew off. This man would never give them anything. He would never offer help or his own personal assistance. Catherine wondered what it would take to get rattle that man and get him to do something for someone else in the lab other than someone from the day crew.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The room had died down from the deafening laughter that had erupted before. Gil Grissom ignored the pain in his wrists and continued to try to get out of his chair. The cloaked figures had finally pulled Warrick off the now unconscious Nick. Whatever they had shot in the other man was enough to pacify him and make him pliable enough to get him back into his chair, arms once again behind him.

From the new position Grissom could see him clearly though he wished for a more full face view. Warrick had his chin glued to his chest as he took deep, shuttering breaths of air. His green eyes were downcast. He was trying to fight off the foreign substance floating through his blood.

Tenner had left the room with the promise of returning shortly. His goons were milling around making small talk. It was enough to cover anything Grissom wanted to attempt to say to the man in front of him.

"Warrick? Can you hear me?"

The other man's head jerked a little, but didn't rise. Grissom was not impressed, "Warrick! Look at me!"

It was finally enough to get through the buzzing filling Warrick's ears. His head hurt, pounded from front to back. But he didn't let it stop him from trying to find the source of the stern voice calling for his attention. Warrick almost seemed shocked to look directly at Grissom.

"Gris!"

"Are you alright, Warrick?"

Warrick laughed humorously, "You think I'm alright? Shit, man. I just did something I never thought I ever would."

His head rolled on his neck to face his partner, "He awake?"

"No, he went out after three punches. Warrick…this isn't your fault."

"Then whose is it? I threw the punches, my hands. Nick is out because of me."

Grissom took a deep breath and shook his head, "Look, you will have time to deal with this later, but right now, we need to figure out how we are going to get out of this."

"Well, there is no way we will be able to deal with everyone in the room at once. Especially if they release only one of us at a time."

Warrick really wasn't into the conversation and the response wasn't completely clear. He didn't care. He was busy trying to visually take check of Nick's condition. There was nothing he wanted more right at that moment than for the other man to wake up and start screaming at him.

He slowly rotated his head and tried to get his eyes back into focus. Something wasn't right about his body, but he couldn't figure out what it was. There were many voices in the room and they were itching at the back of his brain. Warrick shook his head fast and hard to get them out. They would not control him like they did before.

Grissom watched the other man almost give himself whiplash, but made no move to comment on it. He had a feeling both men were drugged back in Nick's house and whatever it was, still had control over them. It was probably what was allowing Tenner to get into Warrick's head so easily.

The moment he opened his mouth to offer another few words to Warrick, the door opened and Tenner slipped in. A new bag was in his right hand and something square and covered with in the left. The man walked with a balance, as if he was carrying full cups of water. Something couldn't be disturbed.

Both were placed carefully on the ground by the first row of chairs. Tenner didn't pay any attention to their guests. He walked over to a small group of four members. Grissom couldn't hear or see his mouth to know what was being said between them. But it wasn't too long before they left the room. It seemed odd to have four people leave.

Warrick noticed through his haze that Mike and Shaun didn't exit the room though. A tiny part of him was pleased because they would be present for a serious ass whopping when he got loose. Once the door was shut and that old man turned back to face them, he had to turn his eyes away. Looking at that scum made him sick to his stomach.

Even though it should disappoint him that Warrick was turning away from him, Tenner couldn't help, but to smile. Disgust would help his purpose. It appeared now that the black CSI would be the one he would use in the end. He would be the one to kill his friends. Just like Mr. White was the one to kill his own wife by lighting the match.

"Well, now that I sent off a few colleagues to finish up some business for me, we can get back to work in here. I want to see what we can get out of you with some more work."

The man reached down into his back and pulled out a large rectangle of black cloth. Grissom's brow shot down as he tried to figure it out. It was a little unconventional to be a gag. It would be too thick rolled up. Tenner turned his back to Grissom and he couldn't make out what was happening.

"First, Shaun. Would you be so kind and wake Nick back up? Unconsciousness doesn't work for this little experiment."

The man pushed his hood back and rubbed a hand over his forehead as he walked over to Nick. Warrick took in his features, but didn't see anything to make him stand out. He would be able to walk anywhere and not stand out as someone capable of torturing and killing people. But Warrick really didn't like the look of pure glee the man was wearing.

His hands were large and one was enough to cover Nick's entire face. The other hand buried itself deep in the short, brown hair. Shaun smiled wider when he heard the tiny man's neck crack in protest to being jerked backwards. Once he was satisfied with the placement of the head, he pulled his hand off the pale man's face.

Nick groaned when the hand slammed into his right ear. It sent sharp rings straight to the center of his entire being. He attempted to pull away from the source, but something was holding his hair tighter than really was needed. This was enough to force his eyes to open. The angle gave a good shot of Warrick and Grissom. Didn't know why, but they looked pissed about something.

"It is good to see those brown eyes once again, Mr. Stokes. I was wondering if you coped out on us already," Tenner walked closer, carefully taking in all the details.

Warrick growled, "Just leave him alone."

"Patience. I would begin to think you wanted more attention if you keep this up. Right now, you need to simply sit and watch. You will learn something, I promise."

The black cloth that Grissom had been trying to figure out looked different as he studied it while Tenner lectured towards Warrick. He knew it was pointless to talk at the man like that. Warrick only listened if you made him truly listen. So, Grissom studied the cloth instead. He couldn't figure out what was different about it though.

"Now, from what I can tell, your greatest fear Dr. Grissom is not being in control. You need some sort of power in every situation and when it is no longer there, you lose that cool exterior you work so hard to achieve. We are going to test that today."

Tenner walked so he was standing directly behind Nick, black cloth loose in his right hand. Warrick had to crane his neck to watch the scene play out. But Grissom had a front row seat with full view. And it was causing something to pull at his stomach.

"Being in control means you control your team. You know where they are, what they are doing, if they are breathing. You lose any of that, you lose control. How quickly though? That is what I am interested in. That and only that."

Grissom tried to open his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a rush of hot air as he watched Tenner slap the cloth flat over Nick's face. The sound implied something. The cloth was wet.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

He could hear words being spoken, but what they actually formed was out of his league at that moment. Tenner's voice was deep and might have been soothing if the man had been some sort of relative. But now all it did was send chills through his entire body.

The skin on his face was tight and sore. Those punches, the ones he could remember, had been hard. Warrick didn't pull a single one. And the longer they went, the worst they got. But he wasn't about to blame him for a single one. Though he knew Warrick would apologize triple for each.

As time slowly ticked away, Nick could feel a presence come up behind him. The voice screamed that it was Tenner. Nick wanted nothing more than to jump from the chair he was tied to, but knew that the ropes could allow it. They were tight around the cast, pushing the hard plaster into his chest.

Something black flashed in his vision before sight was gone completely. It was heavy, cold, and wet. Nick didn't have any time to register what it was. His body went into full panic.

His mouth opened to scream, but all it accomplished was to pull the wet cloth tight against his lips. It closed off both ways to breath. Air would not flow through this black veil of death. Nick tried to shake it off, but it was being held tight at the back of his head.

White flashes of light were all he could see behind the now closed eyelids. The stale air left in his lungs tried to push its way out, but it was almost impossible. Moisture filled his nostrils. Sweat beaded on his neck and chest. He could hear someone yelling his name. Warrick.

Just as when he thought he was going to lose his grips with reality, the barrier was removed. Nick gulped in as much air as he could. His face was damp and cold. He didn't open his eyes.

Tenner remained behind the man and watched his reactions to the treatment. He stole glances at the other two CSI's to gauge them. Warrick was showing pure, raw rage. If the rope had been any weaker, Tenner was sure he would have broken his bonds and been on his feet already.

It was Grissom that amused him more though. His face was set, but it was clear by a quick study of his eyes, that he was scared. They man didn't know what to do or say. This is what he wanted.

"I must say, this is almost too easy. If I known before that it didn't take much of anything to break a law enforcement officer, I would have done this much earlier."

"You have proved your point," Grissom spoke coldly, "But you do not have to do anything else to him. Leave him alone. Take this out on me."

"Oh, but I know what would happen then. I can already tell you what the reactions would be to your torture. These two would yell and fight at their restrictions. They already have enough fear in this situation. I need you to experience it as well. Only then, only then, will I be able to break you all."

Another smile was flashed at Grissom before Nick's white face was covered again. Nick tossed his head much like a wild horse. Grissom could see the imprints of his mouth and nose through the cloth. This time Nick got out sounds. Each one ripped through his heart and soul.

Warrick growled as Nick's head disappeared. The ropes were ripping apart the flesh of his arms and hands, but he didn't give a shit. His chair rocked with his effort for freedom. Mike had moved to stand behind him and was holding the chair as best he could. Warrick didn't make it easy for him.

"How long should we keep it on this time?" Tenner asked as he felt Nick's struggles weaken again, "Should we wait until he stills?"

"Get it off him now!" Warrick roared.

"Leave him alone!" Grissom was pleading, "Get it off him now!"

Nick tried to cry out for help, but only managed sounds of panic. As the sounds drifted to his covered ears, he sounded like a keening dog. His head kept getting heavier and heavier. It was harder to keep it moving.

"Easy now Nick," Tenner whispered as he removed the cloth again. The blood from the cuts was now were now smears of pink across his cheeks, his lips. Every one of the bruises stood out in stark contrast with his forever whitening skin. Tenner never had seen something so interesting before.

He used the cloth to dab Nick's face as he circled around him. Nick moaned around his gasps for air as he tried to move his head away from Tenner's hand. Pure delight ran through his very bone marrow. His gods were singing their praises at this new treat. Nick was giving them everything they could ever want. And they wanted more.

The shouts from the other two men had subsided, but he could feel their hatred, "This couldn't have worked out better any other way I planned it. But now I think it is time to introduce you all to the other players in our workings. After all, they helped us in so many ways."

Grissom watched Tenner like a hawk as he patted Nick's cheek again before he walked away from his CSI. There hadn't been many times when he felt this much anger. But this time, he wasn't willing to wish it away, take a coaster ride. No, this time he wanted to act on pure instinct to get rid of it.

He watched the older man kneel by his other package he had brought into the room. Tenner used the utmost care as he removed the cloth to expose the glass frame. Grissom squinted his eyes to get a clearer look at it, but all he saw was a lot of green under those glass walls.

Tenner picked the tank up and set it on an empty chair, the entire time singing in a soft voice at whatever was inside. He carefully removed the lid and reached a wrinkled hand inside, parting some of the green leaves. He smiled as if he were looking at one of his children during a moment of their triumph.

"I am sure you were wondering greatly about that frog toxin floating in everyone's blood. It isn't something you find everyday here in Las Vegas now is it. But it isn't hard to get a hold of poisonous frogs. A friend of mine found the sight on the internet and told me about it. Cheap when you have the right connections."

In his hand sat a mint colored frog with large black eyes. The tiny body was apprehensive as if waiting to flee. Its tiny black, webbed toes stuck to the flesh of Tenner's hand as it moved slowly to look around the room. The size of the frog was no more than two inches.

"This is one of the few in my collection that I keep clean of all poisons. It is pointless to have all killers. Can't enjoy them as fully then. This is one of my oldest, my Carolina. She has always been my favorite."

Nick finally had his breathing under control and was able to lift his head to look at the frog as it was described. He had seen pictures of them and stories on the television, but this was the first one he had been in the same room with. It was a pretty creature.

Tenner stroked the tiny head. The black eyes covered as it blinked. He placed her back in the tank with care before he turned to face his captives. Movement caught Warrick's eyes and he saw Shaun reach into the bag that fucking cloth came out of. He couldn't see what was wrapped in those massive hands.

"Bring those here Shaun," Tenner beckoned with his hand.

The tall man walked with heavy thuds towards his master and placed the glass syringes into the waiting hand. Tenner placed two on top of the tank as he eyes the last one. With a sinister grin, he held it up, thumb on the stopper. Like in those corny doctor shows, he pushed and shot some of the liquid straight up and out.

"But this here, is the toxin some of my other frogs have. It takes time and patience to milk enough from them. You have to induce panic in their tiny bodies then collect the fluid they push through their skin. Must be careful not to get any of your skin though. It absorbs very quickly. What I have in here is diluted so we will have more time. Don't want you to drift off too quickly now."

"Where do you keep these frogs?"

The sudden question from Grissom caught Tenner off guard. He turned his eyes from the clear liquid to look into a hard look. Grissom was sitting calmly, watching every move he was making. It was almost unnerving. Tenner had to look away quickly.

"They stay right here. If your cop would have looked closer, he would have seen another door in my office. It leads to a very nice tropic environment. Cost a lot of money, but very much worth it."

"Why frogs?"

"So many questions Dr. Grissom."

Grissom would have shrugged his shoulders if he had the movement, "It's my job."

"Hmm…well, it was what called to me. I questioned my gods about what they wanted used in their mission. They told me a tale of the god Dionysus and his use of wine to drug women in order to have them do his bidding. Panic and Fear wanted something similar to drug their victims, but wanted something more organic. Something slower. Frog toxin was perfect."

"You said it was diluted?" Warrick threw his own voice into the mess, quiet for too long.

"Yes, of course. It will still work, just take longer. This works with your blood, dispersing through the entire body. Eventually, organs slow and fail. Hearts stop beating. Nothing to do, but wait."

Tenner took slow steps forward, pacing himself as he talked, "As I said, I don't want to end our games too early. This will just help to reach my goal. As you shut down, your mind is open to knew impulses, new sensations. You will learn Fear and Panic faster."

His feet stopped in front of Nick. The Texan was flushed, but seemed more aware of things now. The younger man looked up at him slowly, showing Tenner the flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He had always been curious to see what the wet cloth could really do to a person. Tenner never really went with when him members took care of their gods' work. It was more fun than he could have ever imagined.

"Let's see how southern blood handles it," Tenner spoke gently as he reached down with the needle towards Nick's exposed shoulder.

Nick tried to jerk away, but couldn't get much room from the movement. The needle prick was quick and only his intake of breath announced the action to his friends. He could feel the liquid move into his skin as he sought out Warrick's eyes. His partner looked ready to kill.

Tenner removed the needle and swiped a finger over the small ball of blood that beaded up. It smeared and added to the pink color already adorning the man's face. He turned away and walked back over to the frog tank. She had started to sing.

He picked up another syringe and turned towards the black man starring daggers, "I think you need some of this as well Warrick. Can't have your best friend experiencing this without you."

"Fuck you."

"Such language. Have to quiet that harsh tongue," Tenner was quicker and meaner with this injection, "Have to silence that."

Warrick grunted as the needle plunged into his neck. More blood welled up from his point of entrance. Nothing felt different. He only felt more pissed off.

"Now, that is done. We should move to the next level."

The announcement washed over Nick like water. His body felt warm, his blood thick. Everything in his entire being was screaming that something wasn't right. Bile rose into his throat and a groan escaped his lips. Everyone in the room turned to face him. It was getting hard to breath, his throat swelling. Thousands of ghosts were running rampid on his flesh. He threw his head back and screamed.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Her house was warm and welcoming. Sharon Walker sat on her couch, knitting needles in her hands. It was the best way for her to reduce her stress. Her life was nothing like she would ever dreamed. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was perfect.

There was a quiet knock on her door. A smile reached her lips. Brandon was early. She was looking forward to seeing him tonight. What she really needed was for him to fuck her into oblivion. Her steps were quick to the door.

"How ya doing tonight big boy? Hope you are in the mood to…"

Her sentence was cut off when see saw the cloaks. Fear coursed through her as she threw herself away from the door into the room. They followed quickly. There was no where to go.

"Why? What happened?"

"You are targeted," said a deep baritone.

Sharon raised a hand and shook her head, "Kyle, don't do this! I haven't done anything wrong!"

Not another word was spoken as they moved in. Her arms were grabbed and locked behind her. The needle was thrust in. Her body tensed in their hands. Breath ghosted the back of her neck as hands moved around on her clothes.

Her worst fear, rape by a group. Seems Tenner made sure to make it with as many men as possible. Hands groped her ample chest, her ass. Someone was rubbing against her left thigh, something hard. Whimpers left her lips. A gun barrel was pushed past her lips. Her screams echoed through the gun cambers, into the room.

TBC…


	21. Chapter 20

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**Author's Note: **Welcome back! I must say, I would think you wanted me to post the rest of this story in one day! But where is the fun in that! Cliffhangers are as such for a reason. Have to let them sit and settle. I don't know about you, but I am looking forward to some more of Tenner's work. Yes, the man isn't done yet! He kinda took over and made me write these things down for him. (But again, he makes the rating what it is) So yeah, go read. See what else in store for our guys! See y'all on Monday! Bye!

**By: duffshel**

**#20**

Jim Brass stalked down the empty hallway looking for anyone. The new 419 call had just come in and he needed to find someone to come work it. A flash of brown hair caught his attention and he immediately changed his route towards it. His frown deepened when he only found Greg Sanders, alone.

"Sanders! I need you to come with me."

The newest CSI turned from the table he was bent over and faced the burly cop that was charging in his direction, "What's up?"

"We got a 419. Down on Palm Grove Dr. I need you to come with."

"But I am working on finding Nick and Warrick. I just got all the reports done on my processing of Grissom's SUV," Greg looked shocked at being removed from something so important.

Brass smiled, but only a little bit, "What if I told you the vic, Sharon Walker, was part of our church under investigation."

Greg snapped up and looked at the detective. It was something that could help open up the case. He just wanted to find his friends and get them back to the lab. And without Grissom's constant presence, the lab was running way below par.

"Where's Catherine at?"

"Vega came and got her…twenty minutes ago. Said he needed her to check something out. Didn't hear what."

"Alright then," Brass nodded, "We'll call them on the way. Get your stuff. Meet me at my car in five."

Greg watched Brass leave the room and rubbed a hard hand over his eyes. He was tired and sick of this uncertainty that hung around like a bad odor. With an inward groan, Greg got out of his seat and headed out to collect his kit. He knew this was the right thing to do, being the only CSI left from the graveyard shift in the building. But it was harder than he would have ever thought.

The Magnum was revving steadily by the time Greg walked out the doors to the lab. He threw his kit into the back seat before he slipped in and strapped on his seat belt. Brass didn't say a word as he shifted into drive and they headed off.

This was the first time Greg had ever been in Brass' car. He didn't know what to do. It was very neat and there was nothing lying on the floors. Nothing like his own car where it was considered luck if the floor mats were visible. Greg didn't know if he was allowed to actually touch anything.

Brass didn't seem to notice his passenger's discomfort as he reached for his radio, "Hey Sam. You out there?"

The radio crackled as he waited for a response. It didn't take too long, "Jim. What can I help you with?"

"Heard you came in and grabbed up Catherine. Wondering what you're up to?"

"Decided I didn't like the church anymore and wanted to go take a look at it. Catherine wanted to join in. We're about four minutes away."

"Alright. Fill me in later. Grabbed up Sanders for that new 419."

Brass could almost hear the smile in Vega's voice, "Good luck with that one. Hear it's pretty messy."

"Thanks. Meet up at the station."

Greg watched Brass hang up the hand set and concentrate back on the road stretched out in front of them. There was no more talking. There was only road and quiet.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine smiled to herself as she listened to the conversation between the two cops. Both men were very good friends, but only if you knew them. A stranger would think the two barely could stand each other when they were on a case. Their answers were short, clipped, and often, sarcastic. And, also, because she could just see Greg squirming around in that car.

The Church of Gods was an older building. It was constructed from gray bricks and wasn't one of the most attractive churches she had ever seen. A little research had given her a construction date of 1927. It had been originally built for medical containment. A hospital used to stand right next to it, long since destroyed. That had helped to explain that creepy room in the basement.

Vega pulled his car right up to the front step. The blonde CSI got out and brushed her hands down the front of her stomach, brushing out her shirt. She turned to face Vega as the cop reached in and removed her kit from the backseat for her. He nodded at her small thanks.

Both walked side by side to the main entrance doors. Voices could be heard inside so neither hesitated to walk right in. There were several people scattered around the room. A small family with two boys sat towards the back. An elderly couple sat together in front of the alter. Then there were a few single men and women here and there.

Catherine stood and watched the room for a moment before moving right towards Jacob Tenner's office. The door was closed and she rapped her fist against it three times. Vega moved to stand behind her, still facing out into the room. Catherine counted to ten before striking the wood again.

"Mr. Tenner? It's Catherine Willows with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I need to speak with you."

Her call through the door attracted the attention of a young, blonde male sitting on one of the benches behind her, "He isn't in there right now. There's a meeting downstairs. I can go get him for you."

Neither she nor Vega could say a word before the man bolted off his chair for the door leading to the basement. Catherine shared a look with Vega before she turned back to the office door and tried the knob. It was unlocked. She gave the door a shove and looked into the lit room. There were papers scattered around, the computer turned off.

Catherine took a few steps into the room and surveyed the walls. There were several posters of different religious artifacts and some bulletin papers. Nothing jumped out for her attention. It looked like a messy office of an old guy. She looked back out the door to see Vega waving his hand at her.

Vega watched as the CSI closed the door and returned to his side. Not a second later the young man reached the top of the stairs and walked over to them. He left the door wide open.

"Mr. Tenner is downstairs and said you may join him if you wish."

The detective nodded his head, "We'll most certainly do that. Thank you."

It wasn't more than twenty steps to reach the door. Vega started down, Catherine hot on his heels. She remembered this dark hallway downward. It still struck her as odd to have such a room for meetings when the main room was so much more attractive. And full of light.

This time there were voices at the end though. They walked right into the room, filled with four people. Mr. Tenner was standing in the middle of the circle, a book in his hand. He turned to face the new arrivals and smiled.

"Ah, welcome back. I remember you from the last time," he said to Catherine before turning to Vega, "Though I do not remember your face."

"Detective Sam Vega with the Las Vegas P.D. I have obtained a search warrant to take a deep look into this building and the activities that take place here."

Tenner's smile dimmed a little, "I already told them the last time they were free to look around. There was no need to get a warrant involved."

"CSI Willows is going to be taking over your office for awhile and I'm going to search the premises. It would be best if you stayed out of the way until we are complete. Then we may have some questions for you."

"Very well. Do as you need to. I have a group to finish up here. There will be no reason for me to be in your way, as you put it."

Vega smiled thinly at the man. He could see why Jim had been so uncomfortable around him. Something was not right about any of this. Catherine grabbed his upper arm and led him away. They climbed the stairs and stood at the top for a second.

"Something isn't right here."

Catherine nodded her head, "He's hiding something. But I don't know what or where."

"You think he knows where your guys are at?"

"I'd put money on it. But we need to find something so we can pull him in. Then we need to get Brass in to question him. He'll crack eventually."

"Okay. I'll start with the outside and work in," Vega stated.

Catherine stopped him before he turned away, "Do you really have a warrant?"

"Well, not in my hand. It's sitting on the judge's desk waiting for a signature. But he didn't ask to see it, now did he. Our little secret."

He left a smiling Catherine behind. She took one deeper look around the room, at the people sitting in their pews. No one seemed to be paying to much attention to her or Sam. She took a deep breath and headed back into the office, determined to rip it apart. They needed something.

She missed all the eyes turning to look at her back as she walked over the threshold.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Warrick could almost taste it in the air. He had been injected as well, but wasn't reacting anywhere as bad as Nick was. The other man was breathing harshly and was sweating profusely. Different parts of his skin turned red and irritated. He was ignoring both his and Grissom's pleas for answers.

It hadn't been enough to rattle Tenner's bones even a little. The elderly man had walked calmly right over to Nick's side and pressed his fingers at the CSI's strained throat. Warrick could still see the satisfied eyes as he turned and called Shaun over. The taller man leisurely left them room through the second door, no hurry in his steps even as the screams behind him choked off.

Tenner had leaned over and whispered things right into Nick's ear. It made Warrick even more upset to see the man so intimately close with his partner. And it was clear it made Nick squirm even as he battled whatever was going on. Nick had still been trying to get noises from his throat, but it seemed impossible now.

Shaun returned shortly, with another needle. Warrick yelled for this to stop. No one paid any attention to him. Grissom had tried to talk to him, calm him down a little. Kept saying this wasn't helping Nick out. But Warrick hadn't cared. He almost broke a tooth when he slammed his teeth together as the needle plunged into Nick once again.

But whatever it was, was enough to calm Nick down. Now the only noises from the man were the pants for air and nonsense mumbling. Nick's eyes were glossy and his flesh gray. Warrick didn't like it. Something was wrong.

Whatever it was made Tenner happier than a clam. So, he had lied about each of the syringes containing pure, diluted frog toxin. Of course, all of them contained the poison, but one had an extra additive. Nicholas Stokes had an emergency label tacked to his file about being highly allergic to wasp stings. Learning to extract wasp venom was cake work compared to the frog collection. And it had been a highly concentrated extraction. Always good to have a biochemist in the church.

The CSI had reacted almost better than planned. Tenner didn't think he would need the allergy medicine so quickly. It seemed the frog toxin might have aided in the reaction. But he wasn't going to worry about it too much. Everything had worked. Both the other men were tense and on edge. Nick was clinging to a thread.

He was wondering what approach he should take next. Grissom was still tight lipped even though his eyes showed great anxiety. Something more had to be done to break that man. Nick would be the first to die, that wasn't in question. Tenner just wanted Grissom to be broken by that time.

Shaun and Mike noticed his nod. Both men walked straight for the Texan. Shaun grabbed his shoulders tightly as Mike began to tackle the ropes tied tight around his broken arm and chest. Tenner couldn't help, but grin when he noticed the look of hatred Warrick sent in his direction.

"Problem there, Warrick?"

"Why him? Can't you just leave him alone?"

"But I just can't," Tenner walked over and crouched down in front of the tall CSI, "Something about your friend just screams for corruption. He needs to fall first. Once the heart fades and dies, the brain and soul follows. He needs to die."

Warrick couldn't stop the tremble from entering his speech, "He never did anything to you!"

"Not to me, no. But he has to the rest of the world. People walk around and ignore everything around them. Things happen right in front of them, but they choose to ignore it. You both did this when you visited the Johnson house and sealed their fates. Only the brave and wise accept the sights before them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Some would call them ghosts, apparitions. Paranoia is one way of acceptance, but it is not something acceptable to my gods. The fear isn't pure. Nick is already showing great fear. His weakness is like a neon sign. Soon he will lose. His fear is his salvation."

Warrick gritted his teeth, but his response was stopped by the cry of pain coming from the direction of his partner. He turned to see Mike get the large cutters underneath the hard, white plaster surrounding the upper part of Nick's forearm. Nick had his eyes closed, he thrown back as the two men destroyed the brace.

Grissom watched with concerned eyes. He didn't like where this could go at all. The conversation between Tenner and Warrick was quiet, but he caught the fact Nick was the first to die. He only could guess that he would be the last since Tenner would most likely want him to watch the death of Warrick as well. After all, his blood was clear of that toxin, still.

"See how he fights it," Tenner turned to face Warrick again and placed his hand on this man's cheek this time.

It was an odd sensation and it almost seemed to burn at the point of contact. Warrick tried to pull away, but Tenner simply allowed his arm to move with the action. He wondered how it had felt to Nick. Nick didn't like strangers to touch him.

"Panic already grips his heart tightly. Nick just needs to accept it and allow things to happen. Everyone in this church knows this lesson. Once you stop fighting, it is almost orgasmic, blissful. No one can stop it. The heart stops. It is enviable."

The cast was now cut downward and Mike cracked it open. Nick bit his tongue to stop from yelling out again. He endured the best he could, but this was too soon for the bones to be exposed. They shifted under his skin with the loss of support. If he focused, he could almost feel the exact points where the bones had broken.

"You are a little slower to learn these things Warrick. You are all tough and strong on the outside, refusing to let just anyone in. But your downfall is those people who do get in. I am going to use him against you. He is your greatest fear."

"No," Warrick breathed out as he starred hard into the laughing eyes of the bastard in front of him.

"Afraid so my friend," the hand squeezed a little before it pulled away, "You broke his arm, no? After he found Brett's watch?"

Warrick refused to be baited. He watched as the two goons removed themselves from Nick's personal space. The arm under the cast was wrinkled and whitely pale. It should still be locked away. That doctor was going to kill them.

"Ever have a healing bone re-broken? Either of you?" Tenner turned to face Grissom with the question.

Neither man responded. For a moment, Tenner simply starred straight back into the eyes of the supervising CSI, and didn't like what he saw. The man thought he could build up some sort of resolve and hold everything in. Tenner wanted to hit him.

"The bone is so tender it can snap like the weakest twig, but the pain is immense. It is almost much worst than the first time."

"Please…"

It was a pure gasp, but Nick got it out. His arm throbbed with a new vengeance. As much as he hated that damn cast, it hurt ten times worst without it on. Everything was fading from his thoughts, but he knew this was not something he wanted to happen. The frog toxin was beginning to work, not that he knew that was the cause at that moment.

"What do you need from me Nick?" Tenner asked.

"Don't…please…"

Tenner smiled. He knew what was happening. It wouldn't be much longer before Nick gave in to the toxin and let his body shut down. Once that happened, they would kill him. The toxin taking the life would not due. Nick had to die by the chosen way.

"Break 'em."

Nick pulled his newly released arm close to his chest and whimpered. The action wasn't enough to put a stop to Shaun's fun. The larger man grabbed Nick's hand in a tight grip and ripped the arm towards his body. It caused Nick to slam his eyes shut and cried out.

"Ready or not!" Shaun twisted the fragile wrist forward and away from Nick's body. The motion caused his elbow in a different direction. Warrick winced when he heard the crunch of the bones breaking.

Grissom closed his eyes at the strained yell Nick released. He could still see the red face, protruding forehead vein as his CSI fought to control his reaction. Another pained sound erupted for Nick and Grissom forced his eyes open. There was no way he was going to shut out the other man in his time of need.

It felt like the bones were going to break through the flesh of his arm and Shaun continued to shake it back and forth to ensure breakage. He threw his head back hard enough to crack his vertebrae, veins taunt in his neck. Finally the limb was released. His hand fell hard against his knee, new shards of pain shooting through him

Tenner watched the tears swell up under the tight eyelids, only one falling down the flushed, sweaty cheek, "Hurts? It will all be over soon."

The elderly man made to reach for his bag when the door suddenly swung open. It was one of their newer members. With time and practice, the blonde man had potential. But Tenner could tell by his posture this wasn't a social run.

"Cops! Two cops upstairs, asking to see you."

"Alright. Everyone into the other room. Set up the circle."

Warrick watched as the men suddenly all sprinted off into the other room. His heart beat sped up again as the words registered in his brain. There were cops in the building. They were so close!

"Grissom, what do we do?"

"I don't know. From the way this room is laid out, I doubt any noise will penetrate the walls."

"Well we need to try something! They will just come back and kill all of us otherwise. We need to stop this now."

Grissom shook his head and focused his attention back on Nick. The other man was breathing heavily, sweat running down his skin. His once again broken arm was limp against his leg, palm up. Grissom sighed and started to look away before something clicked. Both eyes whipped back to the fallen CSI. Nick's arm was free!

"Nick! Nicky! I need you to look up at me."

The Texan coughed roughly to clear out his throat as he lifted his head. Grissom sounded worried and that was enough to make Nick want to investigate. He looked up to see his partner and supervisor watching his every move. A small smile curved his mouth, but there was no light reaching his dull eyes.

"That's good Nick," Grissom praised the slow man, "Your arm is free. Can you get out of your chair?"

It suddenly hit Nick. His arm _was_ free. But his wrist was also very broken. Biting down hard on his lip, Nick raised his arm a little from his leg. It hurt, more than he would have thought. The CSI took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"It's okay man. Don't do what you can't," Warrick said softly.

There is was. The ribbing, the competition. Nick straightened out his shoulders and pushed the fog from the front of his mind. Another deep breath cleared his vision a little more. Suddenly an idea hit.

Warrick watched as Nick slowly turned in his chair so that he was facing more towards the back of it. The turn looked to be putting his good arm in an odd angle, but Nick wasn't letting it stop him. But the taller CSI couldn't figure out what he was trying to pull.

But Grissom did, "Don't risk it Nick!"

"What? Don't do what?" Warrick asked in a rush.

Glaring at his restrained wrist, Nick made his decision. His injured arm moved slowly, hand hanging loosely. Grunting at the pressure, he was able to force his fingers to move through the pain. They got closer to the knot resting against the wood of the chair. Painstakingly, Nick worked his fingers into the curls and twists of the rope.

Each closed-lipped scream and deep moan made Warrick edgy. He couldn't see what the other man was doing, but could hear it wasn't pretty. A quick glance at his boss proved that the other man had little sight to this as well. But the expression Grissom wore did nothing for Warrick's anxiety.

"Nick? Buddy? What are you doing?"

"Just…trying to save…your ass…" it was throaty, but clear.

"I'm not too worried about my ass at the moment. What stupid thing are you doing now?"

Nick chuckled darkly to himself as he felt the knot come undone. He turned forward and rested his back heavily against the back of the chair. A larger smile reached his lips this time. His brown eyes swayed over to light on his partner.

"Stupid thing? Getting loose from my ropes while you haven't had any luck with yours. Yeah, real stupid."

Warrick's mouth dropped open, "Your free! What the hell are you just sitting there for you moron? Get your ass up and over here."

His body was sluggish and it was harder than it should have been to get to his feet. The distance between him and Warrick was a lot of feet. It seemed to be taking more oxygen than it should. Everything was slowly turning an odd shade of gray.

"Nick, are you alright?" Grissom questioned when he noticed the other man's pallor turn green.

The room seemed to be tilting. Nick was sure he was moving forward. Warrick was still in front of him, just looking tinier than normal. Voices screamed in his mind, but he pushed them away. They were distracting him with their concern. Gravity seemed to work against him.

"Nick!" Warrick yelled as he watched the man fall not even a foot away from him. He could almost hear the crunch of the Texan's knees when he hit the cement. Nick looked up at him with blurry eyes, brow frowned in confusion.

Nick didn't get why Warrick suddenly got so tall. And his knees weren't too happy with him for some reason. It was official, his body hated him. Nick tried to move forward, but only his upper body seemed to want to comply. It was weird to see so much dirt and gray before nothing, but black.

Both the other men tried to jump from their chairs when Nick hit the floor, his head hitting hard. The hand on his bad arm was twisted up, the fingers twitching. Grissom did something he never did. He threw his head back and let out a cry filled with his frustration.

TBC…


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hi again. Had to go and get sick over the weekend. Man, do I hate colds! Should just torture Nick and Warrick with one of those in a different story. Would be enough! But anyways…just because I didn't have enough characters in this story, I bring a new one in (I am sure some people missed her). As for all of those of you who were hoping for Nick to wake up and save the day…well, read on. See ya all on Wed. Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#21**

Sara Sidle walked into the lab and nodded at the receptionist. Her skin was tanned, stripes of blonde hair streaking her normally dark hair. There was a bounce to her step that wasn't usual. It was sad that it took going to a funeral to lighten up her mood.

Hodges bustled past her, not a word. She starred after him for a moment. It was rare that the man didn't have anything stupid to say to her. Sara shrugged her shoulders and continued on. She walked towards the DNA lab hoping to find one of her other CSI's. Someone had to have something to do.

Mia was bent over her microscope, oblivious to everything around her. She was trying to find connections with anything for their case. Anything could point the finger now and Mia wasn't about to over look anything.

A soft cough caught her off guard and Mia whipped around on her stool. She was shocked to see Sara standing there with a smile, "Welcome back."

"Thanks. Just got in. Wanted to stop in and see what was up, but can't seem to find anyone."

Sara watched the technician almost squirm under her stare. Something was up, "Where is everyone?'

"Umm, well…thing's got bad when you were gone."

"Meaning?"

Mia took a deep breath and used it all to run through her quick speech, "Nick, Warrick, and Grissom are missing, don't know where. Catherine is at the Church of Gods following a lead. Greg is with Brass at a scene."

It took only a moment, "What! They're missing!"

The CSI was about to take off on a tangent when a male voice behind her demanded her attention, "Sidle, my office. Now."

Sara faced Ecklie, but didn't have a chance to say anything as the man walked away from her. A hand rubbed at her upper thigh as she chewed on her inner cheek. This was not what she wanted to come home to. She was never going to leave again. A quick look and wave at Mia, Sara took off after the lab director hoping to learn what the hell was going on.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

These were not ideal scenes. Greg felt sick to his stomach. The woman had been raped, then butchered. Whoever were the ones to attack this woman, felt the need to torture her even in death. He watched as Brass walked around, barking orders at his officers.

"Ready to head back to the lab, Sanders?"

"Yeah, more than ready."

Brass grinned, "Looking a little green around the gills there. Not taking too kindly to the sight?"

"No, this is just not right. We are not only looking for murderers, we're looking for disgusting perverts. This is beyond cruel."

"You have been hanging out with Nicky too much."

Then mention of one of their missing coworkers brought them both up short. During the processing of the victim's body, it had been easy to forget the major ordeal in their lives. But now that they were done at the scene, the pressure slammed back down onto their shoulders.

Brass coughed and rubbed his hand nervously against the back of his neck, "Come on kid. Let's get back."

Neither said another word as they traveled at the speed limit back to the lab. Greg wanted to talk, say anything, but didn't know what he wanted to say. Over the years there had been stress when dealing with this job. People got hurt, things happened. Hell, he even got blown up once. It was something that came with the territory, but Greg would never get used to it. This concern was eating him alive.

Greg didn't even realize they had made it back to the lab. He had been so deep in his thoughts, most of them not pleasant. No matter how positive he tried to be, all he could see was Nick with his throat slashed, Warrick strangled, and Grissom underneath a pile of flesh eating bugs. It was beyond disturbing. He was just glad foreshadowing didn't run in his family.

The detective made no noise as he exited his car and waited for the young kid to do the same. For some reason he didn't want to go inside alone. Not that he would ever tell anyone. Jim had a reputation to live up to. If people suddenly found out he was afraid to go into the lab alone, it would be over. Trying to cover for his thoughts, he walked quickly, leaving Greg to catch up.

No one jumped at the two men with good or bad news once they entered the main hallway. It could be a good thing or a bad thing. Brass didn't care to figure that one out. Greg headed automatically for the break room. Brass watched him for a moment before forcing himself to follow.

Greg could only think of getting some caffeine in him to work through the rest of this. He wanted to hold off on this new dead body, but knew he would get shit if he did. Almost without looking, he walked past Ecklie's office. Something seemed odd about it today, but Greg didn't think about it. He could smell coffee, even cheap as it was. It smelled like heaven.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Gr4issom didn't know what to do. There was no training for this type of situation. He was forced to watch Warrick try to rip himself out of the chair, in such a rage. And Nick, still as a board on the floor. He was loosing his guys.

He knew enough to know if they lost Nick now, they were all done for. Warrick would never be the same, would never be able to be a good CSI anymore. The man had a temper that was well known and this would shatter any hold he had on it.

Catherine would be devastated beyond words. She had often talked about those two being her boys, the sons she was forced to have even if she didn't ask for them, but never regretted. There were always those moments when Grissom could almost say she was their mother with some of her actions. He would lose that strong woman, that strong mother.

Sara and Greg would eventually move on. They were all friends, yes, but deep down, Grissom knew those two would be the strongest to move past this. Sara had her share of fights with the guys and it wasn't always clear that they were all on the same side, but Grissom knew they cared about each other. And Greg would lose his two buddies, his pals. The young man would bounce back, but not as high. Never as high.

As for himself, it was unclear what actions he would take if he were to lose them. He felt pains in his chest he had never experienced before. Not being a strong people person, he didn't really know what he would say or do to work through something like that. These two were his coworkers, his friends, and his kids. Over the past five years, they helped to define him to who he was.

A chocked off shout of rage from Warrick caught his attention. The other man was struggling to hold back his emotions. Grissom was sure all he wanted to do was scream to everything he held dear. Even the strong lose their way in times such as these.

"Warrick?"

The black man lifted his head as if it were too great an effort, "Yeah?"

"Hold on, okay? Don't let them win."

"And how do we do that? Nick is dying at our feet, I can feel that shit starting to work, and you are doomed to die too. We are fucked, through and through. No sugar or honey for this shit."

"I am not going to offer you any sweet words, Warrick. All I am asking is for you to hold it together for me. If it is a dead end as it may very well be, then you do whatever it is you must. But for now, hold it together."

Warrick locked his eyes onto the now shaking form of Nick. He knew that was what was going to happen to him. There were spots in his vision, his hearing was getting fuzzy, and his body was getting heavy. That frog toxin shit was working its magic now. It was only a matter of time before he was in that same hell Nick was locked in.

"I don't think I can do it."

"Do what?" Grissom asked softly. He wanted to keep his voice low and soothing. Anything to help keep the other man with him.

"I'm not strong enough to do this Gris. I can't do this."

"Look, you are going to be okay. We are going to get out of this. You heard what they said, there are cops here."

"So?"

Grissom let a small grin form, "They are bound to come across something. These guys aren't very organized. Tenner will not get away with this."

Warrick frowned and looked at his boss, "Find what?"

"He's short, scared, and wants away from all this."

"Miguel."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Not even Grissom's desk was this unorganized. It was ridiculous that anyone could operate with sort of mess. Catherine brushed some hair from her face as she let out a breath of air. She had been over every sheet of paper, through every book she found in and on this desk. Nothing was a case breaker.

There was a file cabinet to the left side of the room, but it needed a key. She had no way to get inside. Catherine had never learned the art of picking locks. It was a dead end with that one.

Catherine placed her hands flat on the top of the desk and looked around the room. Her eyes slowly covered every inch of the walls, the bookshelves. She would give up a year's salary if anything would simply jump out at her. But the burn behind her eyelids wasn't helping either.

It was quiet outside the office and from her angle with the door open, there was no one in the large room any longer. Maybe they were frightened of the cops. Andrew had shown up at Sam's request and now was stationed at the entrance to the church as they scooped it out. She had always liked that young cop. Good guy, good cop.

She needed some air. Catherine walked around the desk, careful of her steps. Now that she was once again in the main room, she was certain no one else was up on this level with her. The door to the basement was in the same position it had been when her and Vega came back up. Curiosity got the best of her and Catherine walked back over to the door.

It was quiet. No voices come up, snaking over the stairs. It was an older building and there were plenty of things around to absorb the sound, but she didn't like this at all. Catherine looked up and saw Andrew watching her. She waved him over.

"I need you to watch this door. Let me know if someone comes out or goes in," she whispered to the younger man.

"Yes, Ma'am. Stepping out?"

"Just for a quick breather. Be back before you can miss me."

Andrew smiled at her as she walked away. He had always liked Catherine and had no problem working with her. Hell, she was hot. He had no issue with liking an older woman.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

This was upsetting. He was so close and this interruption was not going to help any. Those three men now had time to draw together and get their thoughts back in control. Tenner would have to get that blonde bitch as soon as he could. She was next.

He told the other four men to stay in the larger room, wanting to check on the CSI's behind the hidden door. Tenner winced as the door scrapped against the other stones as it opened. For a moment, he held his breath and listened hard for anyone running down the stairs. Nothing.

A shocked gasp left his lips as he took in the new room, "How did he get free?"

Grissom watched the other man rush into the room and crouch quickly by Nick's side. Wrinkled fingers felt along the Texan's throat, stopping and holding position for a few seconds. He could tell by Tenner's posture, Nick was still alive. The breath he didn't realize he had been holding rushed from his lungs.

It seemed that Warrick had noticed the same thing, but he still didn't want that man touching his partner anymore, "Get away from him."

"You didn't answer my question. How is he free?"

"You can fuck with him all you want, but Nick is stronger than you will ever be. He fought through everything you did to him and he is going to survive!"

Tenner smiled cruelly, "You aren't free yet. He is passed out, dying here right now. You can talk all you want Mr. Brown, but it doesn't work with me. You are scared and covering it by tough words, tough act."

Warrick growled, "You know nothing about us!"

"It doesn't take much to learn a person. You watch their behavior, the way the carry themselves. Everyone has a certain way to live their life. All you have to do is watch and observe for a short amount of time. I know enough about all of you, the files helped."

"Observation is only a small part of learning people," Grissom interjected.

"And you would know? From my reading, no one seems to think much of your people skills, your people abilities. There is nothing you can say to me to make me fear you."

"But the thing is, you already do. You fear all of us. By hurting us, lowering us below you, you prove you are afraid."

Tenner clenched his fist and stomped to stand directly in front of Grissom. The CSI had a small quirk on the right side of his mouth, eyes inquiring. He was asking for an answer to his outrageous allegations. Tenner would make sure he got them.

The fist came hard and fast. It was almost scary to know such power could come from someone like Tenner. Grissom didn't think the other man had it in him to do it. But the throbbing in his cheek was enough to prove it. The other fist hit with just as much power.

"Hey!" Warrick shouted.

Four hits later, Tenner stopped himself. His hands throbbed from this new action. Tenner had never struck another human in his entire life. With this pain in the joints, it was a mystery why so many men resorted to this action of violence. But, taking a few more deep breaths, looking up at Grissom's split lit and red cheeks, it made it almost worth it.

"You are not in charge here. Nothing is yours in this room. Not even those two men. They belong to me here. You need to accept that."

"You don't own us man! Nick and me are _not_ your property."

"I have to disagree Warrick. I can see by your eyes that you have belonged to me for a short time now."

Warrick was brought up short. He had been trying to hide the affects of the toxin, but didn't think to worry about his eyes. Now Grissom was looking at him, studying him. From the expression of his boss, he didn't look good.

"How are you doing, Warrick?" Grissom ignored the crazy man in the room.

Only a shake of the head was his answer.

"Playing it tough. Figures. You always were the one to stand out with such a trait," Tenner sneered as he walked over to Nick, "He isn't dying quickly enough. Can't let him walk away from this. My gods need him. He will be perfect in this battle."

A shoed foot shoved at the down man. Nothing happened. Warrick watched for anything, Nick's breathing didn't even change. He wanted to scream out his frustration at everything. Then get out of this damn chair and kick some ass.

"Enough of this. Even if they find you down here, Nick will no longer draw breath." Tenner muttered almost to himself.

The black bag was still in the room and it was Tenner's destination now. Grissom watched his every move and didn't like how this was going. He knew Tenner was desperate now and wouldn't hold back. It would be nice to see what the man was digging for in that bag.

Tenner had always like the weight of stainless steel in his hands. The six inch dagger sat nicely in his palm. His father had given him this on his twelfth birthday. It was from World War One, a German blade. Much blood had been spilt by this knife.

He stood tall and showed the weapon off with pride to the wide eyes of the two CSI's. Their shouts of denial and anger were nothing to him anymore. Only the man laying flat on the floor was of interest. Tenner could almost fell the warm glow of his gods shining down on him.

"Have you ever heard that old Chinese proverb about danger and knives?" Tenner looked directly at Grissom for this one.

"Fuck that! Put the damn thing away!" Warrick didn't want to waste time of stupid things like proverbs when there was the prospect Nick would be dead within a minute.

Grissom actually glared at Warrick, "Quiet."

"Ah, I think that must be a first for you. Your golden boy. Your perfect CSI. If I hadn't read the files and learned about you three, this wouldn't be a shock for me. But now, shouldn't it be Nick you are yelling at? Isn't it almost always him screwing up?"

"You know nothing. We are not simply words on paper. There is more than you could ever deal with. Nick is stronger than you ever will be. Warrick is braver than you could dream about."

Tenner wasn't impressed, "A mountain of knives and a sea of fire. It has been said that the only thing a knife truly hungers for is blood, and it takes much to sate it. He comes with incense in one hand, in the other a spear."

The elderly man stopped for a dramatic effect, though it was lost to Grissom and Warrick. They could care less for theatrics at that moment. All Warrick knew was Tenner was slowly walking over towards his partner.

"That is what they are made for. To hurt, to kill. Tell me something I don't know."

"But you see Mr. Brown. Knives have many aspects in the world besides mindless killing. But I am afraid none of those reasons will play in here. My gods are growing impatient and your cop friends are snooping in areas best left alone. It is time to end this. Nick dies now. Honey in his mouth, knives in his heart."

Warrick threw his body forward at the man as he moved to kneel by Nick's prone body. It caused the chair to tip forward, throwing the tall CSI He grunted as his upper body knocked into Tenner, tipping the crazy man down. His knees slammed hard into the cement, the seat of the chair bruising his flesh. But the knife was away from Nick.

"You fool!" Tenner scrambled to his knees, kicking at Warrick. The black man was still tied to the chair, but he was now leaning forward on the ground. His dagger had been knocked from his hand at the hit. Tenner looked for it and saw it about three feet to his right.

Grissom watched as Tenner pawed at the knife while Warrick tried to move pinned between floor and cement. It was a losing battle for his CSI. Tenner soon had his hand wrapped around the handle and pulled the steel towards his body.

"Warrick!"

The blade swung out, directly towards his face. Warrick threw his weight to the side, the chair going with. All the air was knocked from his chest at the awkward fall. But the knife didn't reach his flesh at all.

"That was very stupid of you Mr. Brown. Once I finish with Nick, you will see no more light."

Lying on his side, Warrick was now helpless once again, "No! Don't!"

"No more words to save any of you."

Tenner crawled over to Nick and leaned forward. His lips rested about an inch from the Texan's ear as he reached out his free hand to touch the clammy skin. It would be at least another thirty minutes for the toxin to finish the job. He knew he didn't have the kind of time anymore.

Light reflected off the blade as he raised it, looking towards the ceiling, "Deimos, Phobos. Great gods of Fear and Panic. I offer you this sacrifice and hope it pleases you. He dies in fear. He dies in pain."

Time stood still as the blade cut through the air. It was almost beautiful. Warrick opened his mouth, but sound was caught in his throat. A shout sounded from Grissom, but it was not enough. A rip, slurp, and thud filled the room now.

A laugh sounded from Tenner as he removed his hand from the hilt, blade buried completely in Nick's lower back. It quivered a little from the action. Nick never moved. Warrick roared out in denial.

TBC…


	23. Chapter 22

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **It seems that everyone is still with me up to this point. Thanks for all the support and to the new reviewers, welcome! Nothing like a stabbing to bring people out from the wood work. So, take a nice deep breath and read on. Maybe some of your questions will be answered…maybe. Only one way to tell! Don't let me hold you back. Only two more chapters and the epilogue to go! Still enough time to arrange for a funeral….oops, still typing! Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#22**

Detective Vartann never liked to be left in the dark. He had been busy with the day shift so he only just learned about the mess the grave yard shift had gotten themselves into. A growl left his throat as he stalked the lab's hallways looking for Brass or Vega. Neither of his fellow officers was answering his phone and it was getting plainly annoying.

It hadn't been easy, but he managed to avoid Ecklie. Never had liked that man. But there was no way to avoid Sara as she tore across the tiles looking ready to burn him to ash. He didn't even know she was back from her little vacation.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, "You should be with Brass trying to arrest someone."

Vartann held up his hands, palms forward, "And where would you like me to go? I know probably about as much as you seem to Ms. Sidle."

"Oh, don't give me that crap."

She was mad and it was clear as glass. Even a blind, deaf person would be able to tell something was up with this brown haired woman in front of him. He didn't want to remain the man front of her with this situation in place. There was still that promotion he wanted.

"You can call one of them. See where they are, can't you!"

"Sure, I could do that. But only if you calm down," Vartann reached for his phone and hit the speed dial for Brass' phone.

Sara watched him like a hawk as he waited for his call to be picked up. It only took three rings, but it seemed all eternity. The captain was short with him and didn't sound pleased. But he did get the location of Sam and Catherine out of him. He smiled.

"Come on. We have some driving to do."

"Where are we going?" Sara jogged to keep up with his wider gait, "What do you know?"

Vartann turned a raised eyebrow and a grin to her, "Have you confessed recently?"

"What?"

Nothing, but a smirk. Sara scowled after the cop as he walked out of the lab. There were days where she really hated her friends in uniform. Especially cocky detectives and captains.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Something was odd about this building. It seemed as if it should be much larger than it was. Vega scratched behind his ear as he thought about this. He would love to have the prints for this place in his hands at that very moment. It would make things so much easier.

He had circled the dungy bricks at least five times now and nothing was standing out. Kehls had nodded at him at every pass. The younger man probably though he had lost it or was simply looking for some good old exercise. Vega shook his head and smiled.

His phone had been oddly quiet. A call from Brass had been expected, but there wasn't one. The 419 didn't sound that complicated and it shouldn't have taken them that long at the scene. It was connected to this mess they were all in.

Sam was about to lap the front door again when his attention was dragged right from his thoughts. Catherine was standing at the top of the stairs now, apparently looking for him. Her eyes lit up when she took in his form and she almost skipped over to stand next to him.

"Find anything?'

He shrugged, "Something is odd about this place. Can't put my finger on it."

"Yeah, I have similar suspicions, but haven't found anything in the office yet. Everyone has left the main room. Needed to take a break and get my head cleared out."

He left that one alone. Sam had worked with the fiery CSI enough times to know when to leave things well enough alone. Her bark was impressive, but the bite was just plain scary.

Catherine took a deep breath, stretching out her spine, "I suppose. Can't have it get to Grissom that I was busy looking at the scenery and not the evidence."

Her steps weren't quite as bouncy on her return into the building, but Sam wouldn't fault her for that. A quick glance skyward, a deep breath. He started another circle, eyes open for anything. It was a car speeding up to him that stopped him this time.

Sara almost threw herself at him once she was free from the confines of the car, "Where are they?"

"I don't know. Catherine's inside, the office. We're working on it."

A curt nod was all he got as she ran into the church. Vartann stopped next to him and looked up at the building. He knew his fellow detective knew nothing major about this case and probably was ready to learn about it.

"Come on. I'll fill you in on the way."

"Way?"

Sam grinned, "Yeah. We're making laps."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

There were a lot of empty wooden benches in the large room, but Sara didn't bother with them. She saw the open door and the light on inside. Vega had said Catherine was in the office and that had to be it. Sure enough, the older woman was inside sitting at the desk.

"Where are they?"

Catherine looked up, "Sara? When did you get back?"

"Cut the crap. What's going on?"

"I'm sure you heard about the guys. Sam and I think they are being kept by someone from the church, if not Tenner himself."

"Yeah, Vartann knew a little, but not enough to satisfy me. What can I help with?"

"Just look for anything that looks out of the ordinary. I haven't seen anything, but maybe you will."

Sara shook her head, "Not that I really know what to look for."

The younger woman started to walk around the room, running her hand over the walls as she went. It was an odd office for someone who ran a church. She knew little about this place, but had heard something about a cult being run out of it. If the guys were caught up in something like that, it couldn't be good.

Her fingers jumped off the dry wall. Sara stopped and looked right to the left of her fingers. There was a line running through the wall. Looking up and down, it formed almost the frame of a door. A frown covered her face as she ran her fingers along it some more.

Underneath a poster, there was a handle. Sara glanced at Catherine before she grabbed it and pulled. It opened with a groan and a rush of damp air. Chirps and creaks filled the room. She could sense Catherine walk up besides her as they both looked into the tiny closet. There were plenty of colors from the various frogs inside the little glass cages.

"What's this?"

But Catherine was already fumbling to get her phone. Sara blocked out the conversation she was having with someone as she stepped forward into the small paradise. The creatures were beautiful. Her hand reached out and pressed against the cool glass. The red frog jumped away from her.

"Sara, we need to get out of here now."

Sara turned to the blonde woman, "Why?"

"Because we have our proof of Mr. Tenner's involvement right in this room. He uses the toxin from these frogs to paralyze the victims as they kill them."

"And he has the guys!"

"Yeah. This is why we have to move."

Catherine walked quickly from the room, not waiting to make sure Sara was following her. The sunlight was bright in her eyes as she walked from the church one more time. Neither of the officers were on the sidewalk anymore. She heard Andrew say hi to Sara behind her. They were the only ones in this area.

She pursed her lips as she walked down the stairs and turned left. Catherine knew Sam had been circling the building, watching for anything. It was best to see if she could meet up with them on the way. Maybe they would have found something by now. After all, it was help from Sara that the frogs were found.

The two women's shoes clicked and clanked as they walked on the uneven ground surrounding the church. Its lawn left much to the imagination. There was mostly only dirt and weeds. But they both made good time as they walked swiftly to the back of the building. They stopped dead when they saw the scene in front of them.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Jacob Tenner stood tall over his fallen pray. The blood was rapidly surrounding the area around the dagger handle. It almost looked romantic sticking out from Nick's back. But there was no time to quote poetry over this now. Later he would.

He listened to the sobs that ripped from Warrick even as he tried to call his friend back from the dead. The man was shaken, slowly giving into his fate. Tenner wasn't going to kill Warrick as he had planned. He had to leave this place and soon. The toxin would do it for him and leave Grissom alone with two dead CSI's.

Looking over at the lead CSI, Tenner's smile grew. Grissom looked completely shell shocked. He was quiet, mouth open only to help him breathe. Tears had welled up on his lashes, but none had fallen down his pale cheeks yet. But it was clear the pain Warrick was sharing was slowly killing him as well.

"I am afraid your friends have made us cut this short. Maybe if they leave and don't come back by tomorrow, I will come back and check on you Grissom."

This got him a look from the other man, "Yes, only you. By then, Warrick will be long gone. Submitted to the poison running through his heart. Then you and I can have another conversation and you can describe to me how it felt to remain in this room with these two dead at your feet. Maybe you will then understand my gods."

Silence was his only answer. He didn't waste anymore time with more words as he walked towards the doorway leading into the room with his other men. They had to leave together and not let the cops know something else was going on down below. Tenner checked his hands and found them clear of blood.

"Sleep tight and don't fight," he pulled the door shut behind him, leaving the CSI's alone within the room.

Grissom shook himself from his trance and looked down at Warrick who was still down on the ground from his previous fall. The tall man was lost in his grief now and had stopped calling to Nick. His air was solely for his cries now.

Nick remained still on the floor, blood slowly trickling to the ground. A red puddle was spreading from the man. Grissom couldn't see his chest rise or fall. A chocked noise escaped him. It hurt. People had died around him before and death was a constant companion. But this was different. This was one of his guys. Dead. Bleeding.

"Warrick?"

He was ignored, but Grissom expected nothing less. Warrick was lost to him at that moment. Whatever grasp his CSI had was gone. Grissom knew there was little chance he would get him back if things kept going in this direction. Death was knocking on that door as well.

The ropes chaffed and ripped at his skin as he fought with them yet again. It was pointless, but it gave his mind something else to focus on. Not the blood, or the tears. But it caused Grissom to do something most people had rarely heard for the second time that day. He screamed out in frustration and anger.

Warrick gasped at the echoes that bounced back at him from the sudden sound. He chocked on a sob and forced his head to crane upward to seek out Grissom. His boss had his head thrown back, eyes tightly shut. It shook him more than it should have.

"Gris?"

The soft call of his name made Grissom shot his head downward, cracking his neck in the process, "Warrick! I need you pull yourself together."

It sounded cold and he knew it. But Grissom was at a loss with words for this. Fighting down his own pain, he focused completely on Warrick. The other man was watching him.

"I need you to calm down. You can do nothing in that state."

"It doesn't matter. Those fuckers took Nick away! I'm as good as dead. It's pointless!" He yelled through his tears.

Anger and rage was something Warrick could deal with. This sudden depression and pain was new to him. It scared him. He didn't know what to do to "calm" himself down as Grissom put it so kindly. So he yelled.

"You can't get us out of this!"

Grissom nodded and collected himself as best he could, "I may not be able to. But don't forget about one thing. There are cops upstairs and Catherine might be with them. She will find us."

The mention of Catherine's name seemed to work. Warrick gasped for another breath and fought down the new round of pain. It was possible they knew they were here and trying to get to them right now. He turned to look at Nick again. There might be hope.

"I'm sorry," it was completely breathless, but Grissom caught it anyways.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. You needed to do that."

"Do you think Nick will make it?"

Grissom bit his lip and looked at the puddle turning into a pool of blood under the Texan, "I don't know."

It was honest and quiet. Warrick could ask for nothing more. From his angle, Nick was as good as dead. He could see the blood. The tears hadn't blinded him. Another sob threatened to break lose, but he swallowed it. Along with the burning pain building in his stomach. The poison was back to play. His eyes fell shut.

Both men kept themselves locked in their own thoughts. It hurt more than Warrick would have ever thought. He loved Nick as a brother. Never had he through they would be separated in such a way. If they were to die because of the job, it was supposed to be together. Side by side. Not like this, never like this.

The creak of the door forced them both to hold their breath. Tenner had said he would be back. It was possible he turned the cops away and was able to stay. Grissom closed his eyes in defeat. With Tenner back, they had no hope. He would die here as well.

Footsteps sounded in the room, but Grissom didn't care. The breathing was soft, the gait smooth. Tenner was taking in the sights. Grissom fought from flinching as a hand rested against the flesh of his cheek. Now his eyes clenched shut. For once, he lost his mask and let all his emotions show on his face.

It was over.

TBC…


	24. Chapter 23

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Hello all! Had such a bad day at work, decided to come home and post another chapter! I know, here you all were wishing to wait until tomorrow. Sorry, but I have to disappoint with this a day early! Though, I don't know if it will make anyone too happy. Yeah, we'll see. Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. Let me know what you think of this newest mess. Haven't decided how nice I want to be with posting the next chapter. Have to think on it. But I will see you all soon. Bye!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#23**

The doors to the conversation van were open, sunlight streaming in. Detective Vartann held his gun steady at the man sitting in the back seat. The jelly from his doughnut was dripping on his jeans. Vartann would have laughed if not for the scared boy tied up at his feet.

Sam Vega cooed to the boy and tried to get him to stop moving in order to attack the ropes binding his small limbs together. Sweat ran down his arms, tears on his face. There was a large brown smug on the boy's cheek. Vega knew this boy. His blood had been left at his house.

"Miguel Johnson?"

It was enough to catch the boy's attention. He tried to mumble around the dirty cloth digging into the sides of his mouth. Sam reached out and laid a heavy hand on Miguel's lower leg. It shook within his grasp. He squeezed enough to prove to Miguel he wasn't going to hurt him.

"It's okay. We're here to help you. I'm Sam Vega. I was at your house. Do you remember me?"

Miguel nodded his head, eyes still wide. He cringed as the new man entered the van, gun out. It was clear he was another cop and was here to help him. The gun was pointed at the bad man so it couldn't be all that bad. But they could get this bad tasting gag out of his mouth.

Vartann grabbed the guy's arm and pulled him forward, "Move. You're under arrest and I have a lot of questions for you. Watch the boy!"

The cop forced the man over his body. Miguel whimpered. He didn't want them anywhere near them anymore. They were bad men and hurt him. Plus his friend, Nick. When the group had left earlier, they were joking and said Nick was dead. It had made Miguel cry even harder.

Vega watched as Vartann forced the man from the van to kneel in the dirt. Cuffs were swiftly secured around the scrawny wrists. He listened to the other detective bark off the rights and what was about to happen. It was hard not to jump in and help.

Hearing another muffled gasp, Vega turned his attention back to Miguel. Keeping his hands completely in the boy's line of vision, he moved into the van. He reached towards the cloth, his fingers gripping it carefully. It slid free from the white teeth and immediately, Miguel started speaking.

"Help me! They're bad men! Where's my mom? They killed Nick! Help me! Take me to my mommy!"

It was quick and full of gasps of air, but Sam was able to catch a familiar name, "Nick! Where's Nick?"

Miguel closed his eyes and shook his head. Everything was rushing hard into his head and it was hurting. His mom would make it all better. She always did. He wanted his mommy.

"Where's my mommy?"

"Miguel. I need you to answer me. Where's Nick?"

Lips trembled, tears ran down the old tracks once again. Vartann watched from the side lines, holding his breath. This boy knew where Nick was. He may know where Warrick and Grissom were as well. They may all be together. It was hard not to yell for the boy to answer the damn question. But Vartann knew better than to scare the kid.

"He's…"

Clapping shoes on the hard ground caught his attention and he stopped speaking. Miguel turned in fear to look at the new arrivals. New people were not good things anymore. They hurt him and his mom when they came to his house. These two women didn't look scary, though.

Catherine almost fell on loose gravel as she stopped to take in the scene before her. A man on his knees, hands behind his back. The small boy with tears almost drowning his face. And Vartann and Sam looking at them in surprise.

"What!" Sara breathed from her position at Catherine's left.

Both women suddenly jumped forward and walked quickly to stand besides Vartann. The man in cuffs didn't look up at them, but he did shift uncomfortably. It was the boy that caught Catherine's attention. He looked terrified.

"Catherine, this is Miguel Johnson."

"Oh Miguel," Catherine said sadly as she moved forward to help Sam remove the rest of his bindings.

"Where's my mommy?"

"It's okay. Your mommy isn't here," Catherine slipped into mother mode as she swept the dark hair from the dirty face, "But you are safe now."

Vega coughed to gain attention, "He knows where Nick is."

Sara gasped and moved forward. The boy looked scared at her sudden movement, but she only slowed the down a little. The tension of everything since she had gotten back was rising and overpowering her. She wanted answers.

"Where?"

Miguel shifted under the dark haired woman's stare, "They're in the basement."

All four were stunned. There was only that one room and Catherine had looked into in herself. It was only the one space. Her boys were not down there. Only Tenner and his so-called followers.

"They're not down there sweetie. I was down in the basement and only Mr. Tenner was there."

Miguel winced at the man's name. He would never be able to hear it without being afraid anymore. The man had been nice to him at church, even gave him candy. Now he had hurt him and killed his friend Nick. He would never go to church again.

"No, they are there. He killed Nick! Down those stairs."

Vartann turned to look back at the building. There was a back entrance, but now the detective noticed old cellar doors hidden by overgrown bushes. They weren't locked. He walked over and tested the handle. One of the doors swung out. The hinges were oiled and well kept.

Vega moved over to stand by the other cop as they both looked down into the depths. There were old stairs covered in dust and mold. But there were plenty of footprints leading down. Oddly, there were also a few paw prints as well. Vartann looked over at him and nodded his head.

"I'll wait up here with the perp. Sara, can you start to process the van?" Vega pulled out his radio and hit the button, "Kehls, I need you in the back on the building. Now."

The younger woman bristled at the suggestion, but a glance at Catherine told her she was staying up here. Sara reached out her hand towards Miguel. He hesitated, but took it within his sweaty grasp. Once Sam walked back over towards him, he felt even better.

Catherine walked over to Vartann's side and pulled out her flashlight. The two started down the stairs, the gun leading the way. It was quiet. No one was down in this hallway, but they kept walking. The walls were close and they had to walk in a single line.

The light beam swept from side to side along the dusty cement, but there was no sign of blood. But someone had been through here recently. Lots of someones. Catherine pulled at the collar of her shirt as the air got thicker. The smell was beginning to bother her senses.

Vartann stopped before an old stone door. He frowned as he looked around it for something to grab onto. There was no knob or handle on this side. His fingers followed the grove. Catherine moved closer to him, but he ignored her. There was a gap he could work his fingers in.

"I need you to step back."

Once she as for enough out of the way, Vartann planted a foot on the wall and pulled. His fingers strained with the pull, but the door was moving. It was hard and he grunted. Sweat beaded up on his lower lip. After what seemed like an eternity, it was open. Musty air rushed them and neither missed the overtone of blood.

Catherine was ahead of him before he had anytime to process it. Her heart stopped as she adjusted to what she was seeing. If this kept up, she was going to pass out. The gasp from Vartann behind her forced her body into motion and she walked forward slowly.

Nick was lying face down on the floor, blood seeping out from under his body. It was unclear if he was still breathing. Catherine couldn't bring herself to check. She forced her eyes on Warrick. The man was on his side, still tied to a chair. His eyes were glossy and his breathing harsh. Something was wrong with the man.

Grissom was the one she physically went to first. Looking back on this, she knew she would kick herself for not checking the other two, but somehow, Grissom demanded her attention first. His closed eyes and defeated look was so unusual to see. Her hand was shaky as she reached forward and placed it against his slightly damp cheek.

He cringed back a little, head dropped some more, "Gil?"

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The soft voice broke through his haze. It wasn't the voice of Tenner. He knew this voice. Grissom forced his eyes opened and looked up into the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Catherine looked scared for him, but all he could feel was complete joy at that moment. It, of course, came crashing down.

He heard shuffling and looked downward to see Vartann reach out towards Nick. The blood was further than he remembered. Grissom kept his eyes locked in the cop's hands as he turned Nick over enough to get a clean line towards the down Texan's throat. The removal of his bonds was barely noticed. Grissom didn't move from his chair.

"Catherine? How?"

"Shh, don't worry about it. We have you now. Sara and Sam are up waiting for us. You're safe now."

"Nicky!"

Vartann raised his head, leaving his hand on the still man, "He lives. But he needs medical help…yesterday."

Warrick shifted at the voices, but couldn't get his vocal cords to work correctly. Words were beyond his grasp. Only grunts and moans were what he could give to his friends. It was enough to get Vartann to walk over to him and press a warm hand on his heated cheek.

"Hey, it's okay man. Just hold on. Can you say anything?"

He shook his head. His body was warm and the world was starting to get fuzzy. The toxin was taking over and Warrick knew it. Vartann needed to move now. Or he was dead. Nick already was.

"Warrick! Look at me! Stay with us. Nick is still here and we need you to remain as well."

The words wafted over his head, but Grissom caught them, "He's poisoned. Get an ambulance. Now!"

The detective nodded and ran from the room. Catherine looked around, but didn't see another way into the room. There was a frog tank, a black bag, and various cloths in the room. Other people had been here, but no one had left that she had seen.

"Gil, where's Tenner?"

"He got away. He left. Through that door."

Catherine turned to look, but couldn't tell which door. To be honest, she didn't care. Tenner had gotten away, right under their noses. There would be hell to pay, but not now.

It was hard to see her boss brought down this far. Grissom was supposed to be their rock. The hard place when things got rough. Now he had lost his faith. Pain was evident on his face. And he still hadn't made any sort of move to leave his chair. Catherine found it hard to take.

"Check on Nicky," Grissom almost begged.

The blonde CSI forced herself away from the older man and turned towards Nick. The hilt of the dagger was still evident even in the slight angle Vartann had given his body. His face was more visible and Catherine didn't like what she could see. His skin was white, almost transparent. Her hand rested gently on his cheek. It was cool, yet sweaty. She could now feel the slight tremors racking his entire being.

"Oh Nick. Please don't give up on us," Catherine leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Keep fighting. Show 'em what you're made of."

There was no movement. Not that she expected anything. Catherine turned her face away from Nick's head to face Warrick. His glassy eyes were drilling into her and she moved over to him. She made short work of the ropes and he thudded to the ground from his odd position in that chair.

"Warrick? How're you feeling?"

His tongue was heavy, his lips slack, "Hurts. Nick?"

Her hands brushed through his short dreaded hair in a soothing manner. Warrick didn't want it. She should be by Nick, keeping him with them. His partner was bleeding out. The drug hadn't taken over his thoughts yet and all he could see was that knife plunging downward, over and over. He wanted to scream his anger, but it wasn't being allowed.

The world was getting grayer by the minute, but he didn't know how to tell Catherine this. Words were being mumbled into his ear, but he couldn't get enough energy to push away. At some point, Detective Vartann had returned. All Warrick could make out from him was that the ambulances were on the way. Doctors would be ready for them when they arrived.

He didn't like the idea of more than one ambulance. Warrick didn't want to let Nick out of his sight. His vision was down to a simple tunnel and the end, Nick. His brother hadn't moved and the look on Vartann's face did nothing, but scare him more.

Grissom also saw the worry and fear coloring the cop's face. Any questions he had were kept to himself for he didn't want anything else to bear down on Warrick. The man was fading almost too quickly now. It was clear to the supervising CSI that Warrick was about to lose his senses soon.

The older man's breath caught in his throat. Pain that he couldn't figure out was clenching at his heart. His boys were both lying at the floor at his feet. That thought was finally enough to force him into action. Falling hard to his knees, he crawled over to kneel by Nick.

The blood was warm, but rapidly cooling against the cloth of his pants. His hands hovered over Nick's back for a moment before he carefully placed one on Nick's upper back. There was a slight movement up and down, but not enough to completely satisfy the man.

"Oh god Nicky, Warrick, please forgive me."

His head fell forward enough so his forehead was resting against the back of Nick's head. Nothing could hold in his pain anymore. Soft sobs escaped him and he let it fall hard. He could hear the others, but didn't let them interrupt him. He needed this as much as Nick did.

Catherine watched her boss, her friend fall apart while leaning over one of her boys. It was hard to take and the tears streaked down her face. Her hands remained buried in Warrick's hair. Touching at least one of them was helping to ground her to the present. A gasping whimper left her lips and she removed her gaze from Grissom and Nick.

"Warrick!"

It was shrieked and enough to draw Grissom up. He watched the blonde CSI scramble to take Warrick's pulse. The man's eyes were shut, his body completely sagging. The frantic movements proved that Warrick had lost his battle. Both their lives were now completely in the void. Grissom shook his head in denial, ignoring the hot tears still streaming down his face.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Sara held her breath as she waited for the paramedics to exit the cellar. Vega had held her back when she tried to follow them. No one had told her anything about what was happening. It was driving her insane. She wanted to pull out her long, dark locks.

Quick glances at her watch told her the minutes that passed. They had gone down into that pit only seven minutes ago. Her heels started to rise and fall from the ground with each breath she took. It looked pathetic, but Sara didn't care. She would yell at Andrew later for any jokes he may make.

Miguel looked up at her with large eyes. The boy had refused to be taken away until he saw what happened to his friends in the basement. He tried to ignore the woman next to him. She was making him more and more nervous. Now she was literally bouncing on her feet. It made him want to do the same.

Just when Sara was about to burst her way down into that dark hole, someone yelled something up. Another one of the paramedics that was waiting by the bus jumped into action. The gurney wheels squeaked as the man in the white uniform rolled it over towards the stairway. Officer Kehls moved to assist when the gurney got caught up on a rock.

It was Warrick they brought out first. Catherine was at his side, holding his hand tightly. The brace board rested easily on the gurney. Sara moved closer as they strapped him down. Those green eyes were hidden behind dark eyelids. The raw power of Warrick was gone. This was nothing more than a little boy strapped down. One would never know he towered over most people from this view.

"Where's Nick?"

Catherine turned her head at the soft question for Sara. Both women noticed the groan and movement of Warrick's head at the mention of the other CSI's name. Catherine took a deep breath to fight back the new round of tears threatening to fall.

"There were some…complications. He's coming up next. Grissom's with him."

"Is he dead?" Sara moved close to the other woman and kept her voice low.

"No. But they need to get him to the hospital. Warrick too."

"What happened to him?"

"Poisoned. Same toxin used on everyone else. It was called ahead and Palms said they could deal with it. Should be okay if they get him stabilized soon."

Sara nodded her head. At some point Miguel had moved closer to them. She opened her hand on reflex when she felt him grab at her fingers. His fingers were tiny in her hand, but she needed the comfort in the action almost more than the small boy did.

They all watched as Warrick was wheeled into the ambulance. Catherine gave a shaky smile to Sara as she moved to follow. "I'll see you at the hospital. Call Greg and fill him in."

Any reply was cut off by the arrival of a pale Grissom, "Is Catherine with Warrick?"

"Yeah."

Grissom nodded, but didn't say anything else. His eyes turned away from the slowly disappearing ambulance to look at the slow arrival of Nick on his yellow board. The Texan was lying on his stomach, hands resting at his sides. Sara gasped at the sight of the knife still in his back.

A new gurney appeared and the man was lowered carefully. The paramedics were discussing procedures and protocols as they got ready to move the man into the bus. Grissom patted Sara on the arm before he moved to go to the hospital with his CSI.

"His heart is dangerously slow. Still bleeding from the wound. Palms says to leave it in to minimize it. They will remove it there."

"Oxygen level is too low. Have to up the flow."

"Get a new bag. He's already drained this one."

"Paddles are ready. Should be at Palms in ten."

The paramedics didn't try to hide any of their conversation. In fact, Grissom was positive they didn't even realize he was present. He kept a tight grip on Nick's right calf as they were jostled on the way to the hospital. The solid beep didn't register to his brain until the panic erupted in front of him.

"He's flat-lining! We need to move faster!"

"Starting resuscitation procedures!"

Grissom could do nothing, but stare. They cut away the cloth of Nick's shirt as they shifted the dying man onto his side. A mask was placed over his face. It was the only thing moving the man's chest.

TBC…


	25. Chapter 24

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.

**Author's Note: **Thanks for returning for more! Means a lot! More at the end of this story! Race ya!

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**#24**

These were the times that Susan Mercer hated the most about being a doctor. Hope was something she could only offer in so many dosages a day. Their eyes were begging for a miracle. She took a deep breath and looked down at the chart she held in her left hand.

"I have only Gil Grissom down for their emergency contact besides each other. But since he has been admitted as well, he asked to have you all informed. Said it would save time."

Catherine gave a tiny smile, "He would say something like that."

"Well, I'll begin with Warrick Brown. We managed to get the poisoning under control and are working it slowly out of his system. He is currently stable, but we will keep him for a few days to make sure there is no relapse. I had to clean up his hands and a few stitches were needed in his knuckles. All in all, he should make a complete recovery and be able to return to work in a couple weeks."

Greg looked up from his chair. His knees gave out on him as soon as he walked in the entrance doors to the hospital. He had been with Brass when they were found and rescued. From what he heard from Sara, he had been expecting the worst. So far, things were good.

"What about Nick?" Jim's voice was gruff as he softly asked the doctor from his position over by the other two detectives.

"It was complicated. I will be monitoring him for at least a week. The poisoning, the allergic reaction made his body very weak. Once he started bleeding out, it was risky. We needed to do an emergency transfusion and have him heavily medicated. There is a risk at mixing in a pain medication with everything else he needs right now, so I made the decision to keep him off that right now. The allergy medicine will keep him knocked out for awhile longer anyways. Once he is off that, then we can take care of the pain.

And I had to reset his arm and I gave him a nice white cast. He will recover, but it will be slow and hard on him. And from what I know of Nicholas Stokes, he will push it. He hates those hospital pants."

This got the desired chuckle from the tense group, "I have them both transferred from the emergency unit. It took some string pulling, but I managed to get them in the same room. Figured it would be easier than having to chase them around."

"Can we see them?"

Dr. Mercer looked at the spiky haired man. She couldn't help, but to smile at him. He looked lost and she knew the men under her care were important to him. This was Greg from the night Nick had broken his arm. Yes, this man needed to see his friends.

"I was asked by Dr. Grissom to allow him to see them first. But I have no problem with you staying for a short visit, but in small groups. I will send for you as soon as I am given permission from your boss."

Catherine watched the doctor walk away with a wink. She liked that woman. Her body collapsed into the plastic chair next to Greg. The younger man didn't hesitate to take her hand that she placed in his. The other one was already within Sara's grasp on the other side.

"What do you think Grissom is going to say to them?"

"I don't know," Catherine shrugged at Greg's quiet question, "But I'm sure they all need to hear it."

The three CSI's remained silent as they thought over their own thoughts. From time to time their attention was dragged to the make-shift poker game the three cops had decided they needed to get going. It was nice to hear Brass' grumble, Vega's triumphant cry, or Vartann's huff from time to time. Kept them all down to earth and in the present. Greg's curiosity got the best of him and he moved to join in.

Sara shifted into Greg's now vacated seat and let her upper arm rest on that of Catherine's. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough for both women. They weren't the greatest of friends, nothing like Nick or Warrick. But there was friendship and love between the two of them. They were a family, no matter how dysfunctional.

"We should make those guys wear bells on every case from now on."

"What?" Sara shifted towards Catherine, trying to hold back the grin on her face.

Catherine merely shrugged, "It would keep them within hearing distance. They get to far away, we shock them or something."

"I don't think that is considered humane."

"Yeah well, if it keeps them out of trouble for at least a week, I am sure we can get past those thoughts. Pretty sure the sheriff would give us the budget for it. It's not like I want to attach the shockers to vital parts. Only…like their ears."

Both women started to laugh. All four men glanced in their direction. Greg and Vega were the only two to smile. Vartann simply raised an eyebrow. Brass frowned.

"Those two are nuts."

"Oh come on Jim. Leave them be," Vega shuffled the deck.

Vartann nodded, "Yeah, women always laugh at times like these. My sister laughed at everything when the times got tough."

"Still nuts. You gonna deal Sam or you need to rules explained again?"

"Yeah, yeah. Five card."

All laughter and ribbing was brought to a halt, but the sudden appearance of one Gil Grissom.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

His face was sore, but it was him mind and soul that hurt the most. Grissom sat upon the paper sheet wrapped around the examine table. The hospital gown was itching and the draft in the back was enough to make him want to walk out. But the doctor put him in a room directly in from of the information desk for the E.R. There was no way out without being seen by someone.

A soft sigh left his lips and he looked around the room again. Dr. Mercer seemed nice, but she just didn't seem to understand that he didn't need to be in this room. He had gotten off easy. She had no need to waste any effort on him. Nick and Warrick needed her undivided attention.

The door opened and swung inward, emitting the small female doctor. She wore a small smile, "Dr. Grissom."

He nodded at her hello. She moved around the room without wasting any movements. All the equipment she would be using on him was already out and ready. Grissom watched her settle herself onto the black stool and turn her attention to him.

"How are Nick and Warrick?"

Dr. Mercer was not put off by the question. In fact, she looked completely prepared for it. Grissom didn't like the look she did at her hands first though. From years of interrogations, he had learned that was never a good sign.

"We are still working on them. Mr. Brown is almost completely stabilized. And Mr. Stokes…well, we are getting positive things done."

"Then what the hell are you doing in here! You shouldn't be wasting time looking over these bruises. Discharge me and get on with it."

"You arrived to this emergency room in an ambulance, Dr. Grissom. By hospital policy, I am required to check you over before you're allowed to leave."

He stood quickly to his feet, "Policy means nothing when my guys' lives are in danger."

"Please sit back down," Susan stood as well, holding her hands out in front of her, "The sooner you allow me to do my work, the sooner you can get out of that gown."

Grissom looked stunned, "What?"

"I have no desire to hold you back from seeing your CSI's. All I need to do is some quick checks and you're free. But to do this, you need to sit back down. That lip won't clean itself."

Not knowing what else to do, Grissom sat back down, the paper crumpling under his weight. He tried not to shift as she examined his face, eyes, and ears. His lips stung when she pressed the cleansing cloth to the cut. The stethoscope was cold against the skin of his chest and he always felt like a fool taking those deep breaths. But with everything that was done to him, the doctor's face smiled more and more.

"All I need is a blood sample and we're done. Simple, no?"

"I'm sorry," Grissom ran a tired hand across his jaw, "I just need to know they're okay."

"Believe me. I completely understand. You forget I was here for Nick the two times he was brought into my E.R. These men are important, not only to you."

Dr. Mercer walked over to the tray holding the syringe and tubing. Grissom held out his arm and allowed the yellow rubber to be tied around his upper arm. He clenched a fist without prompting and waited to feel that annoying prick. It was over before he knew it.

"Would I be able to see them?"

"Of course. I was planning on having them placed in a room together so it would be easier on everyone involved, though mostly the staff here. There will be short visits with small groups of friends and family. Reporters are not allowed inside the doors."

"No, I mean as soon as I get clothes on."

This bought the doctor up short. She frowned at him and looked troubled. Grissom didn't like this silence. He would have much rather had her tell him off. Finally, she sighed and looked away from at the door.

"I don't know what good it would do. They are both drugged and will most likely be asleep. Nick should be out of it for at least twenty four hours yet."

"It doesn't matter," Grissom stood again, "I just need to see them. They don't have to be awake."

She looked back over at the taller man and made up her mind, "Alright, but if they _are_ sleeping, leave them be. It will only be a short visit and no one else must see you go in. There are rules that need to be followed here. I break enough as it is."

There was no look of disgust or annoyance on her face. Grissom knew that she understood and would not deny him this. She nodded to his clothes and left without another word. He wasted no time in ripping the gown off. These clothes were clean and smelled of the lab. Greg had been kind enough to grab all three men's spare clothes from their lockers since he knew the ones that had been wearing would go directly into evidence.

Once he was dressed, shoes tied, Grissom walked over and opened the door. Dr. Mercer was signing something and turned to him. A pen was held out towards him. His discharge papers were waiting.

"You are free to go. Just keep those bruises iced for a couple days and take it easy. Your muscles are going to be sore and tired. Simple aspirin will suffice. I suggest you take at least four days off to get some rest. But all in all, you are completely fine physically. Your job will determine procedures for mental healing. If you need, I know some really good doctors who deal with post events like these…well, not quite like these, but you know what I mean."

"Good to hear. And thanks. There are mandatory evaluations after traumatic events and seeking therapy is a must."

He signed the forms and handed them back to the nurse behind the counter. The woman didn't even bother to look at him. It didn't matter at all. Grissom's attention was completely on the doctor. Again, she nodded her head and began to walk away. He followed with no hesitation.

Her voice was low, "Only Mr. Brown is currently in the room. He was awake according to the nurse that was just in the room. The poison has been neutralized and he should make a full recovery. We are monitoring the removal of the leftovers, but his system should be cleaned out in a few hours. There were some cuts on his knuckles, so a few stitches were needed in order to ensure proper closure of the wounds. His body will take care of itself in time."

"And Nick?"

"Mr. Stokes is still being worked on. I will be going back to see him as soon as I drop you off. When he is ready, I'll bring him in and fill you in on what is going on."

They stopped in front of a closed door, "This is it."

Grissom nodded and not another word was said. He watched as Dr. Mercer took off back in the direction they had come. Looking around, he took notice that they were still in the ICU of the hospital. His guys weren't out of the storm yet apparently.

His hand rose with a shake to grasp the doorknob. His breath caught in his throat as the door opened, his nostrils assaulted with the scent of healing. There wasn't a great deal of light in the room, but he made out Warrick's shape on the far bed with no problem. Grissom's feet almost worked on their own accord to take him the side of the bed.

Warrick had been resting his eyes, but the new arrival forced them open. He was waiting for news on Nick. The nurse didn't seem to care to fill him in on anything. He was hoping this was that nice doctor again. It wasn't.

"Grissom?"

"Hey, how're you doing?"

"Felt better. Have you heard about Nicky?"

"Not much. I just got out of my own examination. Dr. Mercer only said they are still working on him. He was pretty roughed up."

Warrick chuckled, "If you call that roughed up, I would hate to see what you call _fucked_ up."

Both men grinned for a moment. But reality slipped back in and weighed the both down. Warrick almost could feel himself get pushed further down in the mattress. His body screamed for sleep, but his mind wouldn't allow it.

"At least that doctor's awesome. She'll be able to fix him back up. Did wonders for me. Guess that frog toxin can't hold up to some needles and clear liquids, I guess."

Grissom nodded at the remark, "Yeah, she will put him back together again. But Warrick. How're you really doing?"

"Well, I'm drugged up and my body is killing me. But, not too bad I guess. Got something pumping into me that is cleaning my blood out. Making me really tired."

"No, I mean how are you handling all of this? We went through at lot and I need to know how you are dealing with this, emotionally and mentally."

The new question brought Warrick up short. He had been hoping to avoid that for a little while longer. Maybe like until he was on his death bed. But leave it to Grissom to bring it up before he had yet to see his partner. And from the look he was getting, there was no way to avoid it.

"I don't know. It's going to take time. A lot of fucked up shit happened in that room. Can't say I'm not going to have nightmares about it. I know I will have to see the lab shrink and to be honest…I really think I should. As for the emotions, you best be asking Nick about those. Man has more emotions in his entire body than I have in my big toe."

"At least you are honest about it." Grissom chuckled at that little rant, "No doubt I will need your help to get Nick in there to speak with him about all of this as well."

Warrick nodded, knowing full well about Nick and shrinks, "Yeah, but I'll get him in there even if I have to drag him."

Silence fell over the two men and Grissom looked around the room. It wasn't anything special, but he took notice that the beds were fairly close together. He shook his head and walked over to the chair situated by the window. A little pull and he brought it closer to Warrick's bed.

The taller CSI watched his boss get comfortable in the chair, "Is everyone else here?"

"Most likely. Catherine rode in with you. Brass brought Greg in. And I hear Sara is back, with Vega and Vartann. They brought Miguel Johnson in to be checked out."

"Party in the waiting room. When are they coming?"

"Don't know. I asked if I could see you guys first. The doctor had to move quickly and not let anyone see me come in here."

"We owe her dinner," Warrick sat up more against the pillows.

"And some flowers."

Any further conversation was interrupted by the door opening once again. The first thing through was a rolling bed. Nick was pale and small underneath the white sheet. Dr. Mercer rested her hand on the railing as it was moved inside. Two male nurses accompanied her.

Warrick turned on his bed and watched every move the three hospital members made. They shifted Nick from one bed to the other by using the sheet underneath his body. Once the Texan was situated on the new mattress, Dr. Mercer began placing the IV's and monitor stickers. The soft beeping of Nick's heart beat was almost better than Mozart to Warrick and Grissom.

The two nurses left without as much as a glance at the other two men in the room. Dr. Mercer was left alone as she made sure everything was in order. It only took a total of five minutes, but it seemed forever to the other two.

"Well, here he is."

"How is he?"

"Is he alright?"

The two questions were thrown at her, one on top the other, "Yes, he will be just fine. It took some work, but I believe everything is done. He's going to be extremely weak and will probably remain asleep for awhile due to the allergy meds I have in his body. The poison was dealt with as was the blood loss. I performed an emergency transfusion to make up for it. It took some work to close the stab wound, but nothing major was damaged. He will probably need some therapy to regain some of the damaged muscle usage in the area though.

And his arm was reset. This time I put a thicker cast on. Hopefully this one will be allowed to do its job. If those bones are not allowed to heal, Nick may lose some of the movement in his hand. I am planning on keeping this cast on a little longer. His therapist will also be able to work with him on it."

"But he's going to make it?" Warrick asked almost fearfully.

"Yes. He will be just fine in time. Just don't give up and help him through this. You three did well. You all deserve a vacation. Hit the assistance button should anything come up. I'll be back in thirty minutes to check on him."

They watched as she left. As soon as the door clicked shut, Grissom was on his feet and over at Nick's bedside. He didn't protest as he felt Warrick shuffle over as well, the IV pole dragging behind him. Both had similar thoughts as they looked down at their friend.

The Texan looked so small, so vulnerable on the white sheets. Warrick didn't like the sheen on his pale flesh. He had to keep himself from looking at the heart monitor screen to make sure this wasn't all a dream. His hand reached out, trembling badly. The skin he touched was cold, sweaty.

"This is all my fault."

Grissom looked up sharply to look hard into Warrick's face, "How is any of this your fault?"

"I broke his arm. I made him open to Tenner's sick obsession. It was just a simple shove and now look at him."

"No, Warrick. I put you two on the case. It was me that put the two of you in his sights. Everything else was only a matter of time in that man's mind. The arm break was just a play in his favor, but not the reason."

Warrick shook his head and gripped Nick's arm harder. He didn't want to let the man out of his sights, no less from his touch. It was still possible this was all a dream from the frog toxin and Nick would vanish if he didn't keep tabs on him.

"I should have fought harder for him."

"How would you be able to do that tied to that chair as you were?" Grissom raised an eyebrow, "Besides, you were poisoned as well. There was only so much you could do."

"Still…"

"Warrick, look at me."

The taller man did so reluctantly. Grissom turned to fully face him and rested a hand on his broad right shoulder, "You did what you could. Both of you are alive and will be fine. You have nothing to blame yourself for."

Warrick nodded slowly, his gaze returning to his partner. It was going to be hard to accept, but he was willing to try it. His body began to protest being vertical. Both legs were being to shake and Warrick was sure they wouldn't hold him up much longer.

Grissom also took notice. Before waiting to see how long it would take for him to fall over, he grabbed Warrick's arm and pulled him back towards the other bed. Protests were heard, but fully ignored. Warrick's eyes began to close as soon as Grissom pulled the blankets back over his form.

The door opened again. Dr. Mercer walked back in and nodded to Grissom. She took in both sleeping forms and smiled. Maybe this was the best idea to keep them together.

"Your colleagues are asking to see them."

"Did you tell them anything?"

"No, you are the only other contact on their forms. Wish to wave?"

"Tell them what they want. Save time. I'll be right behind you."

She nodded again. Grissom waited for her to leave before he turned to his CSI's again. He wished to stay and wait to see Nick wake up as well, but knew that wouldn't be possible right now. Walking between both beds so he was level with both men's chests, he sighed.

"I'm sorry this happened to both of you. But I promise to help you through this. You are not alone. I'm proud of both of you."

Neither moved. Their soft breathing was his answer. It caused Grissom to grin slightly. There had been many hours he was afraid that would be something he would never hear again. With one last glance, he removed himself from the room. The door shut softly behind him.

No one was in the hall and Grissom followed the signs until he found the waiting room. It was weird to enter it from this direction. The rest of his group was waiting for him. Catherine and Sara were sitting side by side. The four guys goofing around a game of cards. His grin grew.

"Glad to see you all still working."

Catherine stood and walked over to him. She didn't stop until her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug, "You three do that to me again and _I'll_ be the one to kill you!"

"Glad to see you too. Who's processing the church?"

"Ya know, you don't have to work all the time," Jim Brass smacked him on the shoulder, "Day shift has it under control. Vartann and I'll make sure of it. And Miguel Johnson will be taken care of as well. Child services is here, waiting."

Vega walked over as well, "And we have good news on Kevin Starr. Talked with Robbins, his parents came and made arrangements. Seems they were on vacation and didn't even know he wasn't home."

"He was the mauling vic? Need to get work finished with him so I can help you put those two men behind bars for good. Have more on them?" Vartann asked as he pulled Vega over to the side a little for some more information.

"But how're you doing?" Sara asked softly.

"Sara, good to see you again. Sorry I didn't say that back at the scene. But I'm well."

No one seemed to believe him. Even Greg had complete disbelief on his features. Grissom shook his head and mumbled to himself. This was his family.

"How are Nick and Warrick?"

"They'll be fine. Dr. Mercer is optimistic and says they will be out of the hospital soon. They are going to need our help though."

Catherine smiled, "But of course. Those two need all the help they can get."

Laughter filled the room and everyone looked to calm down. Grissom rubbed at his face, "We should head back to the lab. They're both asleep and will not wake for awhile. There is a lot of work to do. Besides, I think Catherine and I need to have a chat with Conrad."

"Now what did he do?" Vega walked closer.

"Let's just say he needs to learn to screen guests to the lab better next time. A pretty smile shouldn't be enough to let anyone in personal files room. That information is personal for a reason."

The words hit hard. Catherine's face turned vicious, Brass actually sneered. It was going to be interesting when they walked through those glass doors.

Catherine wasted no time in walking over to her purse, "Where the hell are my keys! I'm going to fry his head."

"I'm ready. I'll drive," Brass growled.

The group left, much to the relief of the secretary in the room. Grissom followed closely in the back. He really wasn't up to having to deal with Ecklie right now, but it seemed he may not even have to say a word. There were enough people to do that for him. He would save his strength to hold Catherine back though if need be.

Doors slide open to allow him into the open air. Grissom took a deep breath. His eyes closed against the bright light. The healing had begun. He was up to the work to get his guys through it. They would be back. Most likely again tonight.

TBC…


	26. Epilogue

**Summary: **Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue. And I also own nothing with the song used in this chapter. The words are simply being borrowed and placed in this text.

**Title: Poisonous Fear**

**By: duffshel**

**Epilogue**

His body protested his being awake. Nick managed to pull himself upright against his pillows, but it had taken some time to do so. After all, he had recently been stabbed in the lower back. His arm was throbbing once again underneath the new plaster. Hell, his entire being throbbed under the white sheet. It was hot in the room, but he hated to look at those damn hospital pants.

Soft snores filled the room from his sleeping partner. Nick had watched Warrick for a few minutes before turning his attention to the room they were in. It seemed odd they were together. After all, they had been put through hell and brought back. They should both be dead and where ever fate deemed a good place for the two of them.

Nick didn't deny that fact that he should probably be dead right now. He had slipped in and out of consciousness when the nurses were in the room. Through their quiet conversations and Warrick's guilt talks when he thought Nick couldn't hear, he knew about the stabbing and the poison. It had been close. Too close.

The sad thing, all he could really think about though was the fact he would probably be placed in the lab for good or never work a case alone again. Grissom had been there to see his weakness and it killed him a little inside. His partner was there as well, but he could live with his brother seeing him like that. Besides, Warrick had dealt with the poison in his system. He understood what it did.

Many people had been in their room. From listening to them talk to him and mumble amongst themselves, he learned only two days had passed since that day in that church. Two days since Tenner vanished without a trace. Two days since Ecklie had accepted his wrongs in this situation.

It didn't matter though. Nick didn't really care. He knew he should, but couldn't seem to bring himself to do it. It was clear that he would hide this away with everything else. There would be a new folder in his mind, right besides the babysitter, Hendler, Crane. They would all have their neat little white labels. The drawer would remain closed.

Nick turned his head slowly to the table next to his bed. The glass reflected the light from his monitor. An eerie green glow lit up the tiny world. Sara and Greg had brought this in for him. It should have freaked him out. But it didn't. It was beautiful and soothing all at the same time. It added to the comfort Warrick brought him from the other bed.

He knew he was safe. He knew Warrick would help him. His brother would receive his help as well. Their fears would go away. They would move forward. Eventually. Even if it was only on the surface.

The tiny frog chirped her song.

And Nick smiled.

_"Serenity" by Godsmack_

_As I sit here and slowly close my eyes  
I take another deep breath  
And feel the wind pass through my body  
I'm the one in your soul  
Reflecting inner light  
Protect the ones who hold you  
Cradling your inner child _

I need serenity  
In a place where I can hide  
I need serenity  
Nothing changes, days go by

Where do we go when we just don't know? and

_How do we relight the flame when it's cold?  
Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing? and  
When will we learn to control?_

_Tragic visions slowly stole my life  
Tore away everything  
Cheating me out of my time  
I'm the one who loves you  
No matter wrong or right  
And every day I hold you  
I hold you with my inner child_

_I need serenity_

_In a place where I can hide_

_I need serenity_

_Nothing changes, days go by_

_Where do we go when we just don't know? and_

_How do we relight the flame when it's cold?_

_Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing? and_

_When will we learn to control?_

_I need serenity_

…_Where do we go when we just don't know? and_

_I need serenity_

…_How do we relight the flame when it's cold?_

_I need serenity_

…_Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing? And_

_I need serenity_

…_When will we learn to control?_

No one is immune to fear. It comes in many shapes and forms. To another, it may seem silly and stupid. But to the person experiencing that rush of blood, goose bumps from head to toe, and prickly hair on end, it makes all the sense. It erases all logic and reasoning from even the brightest. It brings out the trembling child in the biggest and strongest. A gun will not protect you. A friend will only fall with you. What is it that can make your heart stop?

The battle against one's fears has been going on since the beginning of time. Many have fallen into their living nightmares, others have risen above. Fear can be beaten, overridden. It is hard, many give up. But there is always an open window to the outside, a calm world away from demons and haunts. A world of complete serenity. Here, there are many weapons against the things that go bump in the night. A gun is not needed. A friend will walk besides you. What is it that can make your heart stronger?

**Κατάληξη **

**Author's Final Note: **Just want to thank everyone who read and/or reviewed this story. Thanks for putting up with me once again! I was completely nervous about it due to its pace, story line, and length. Glad to know this monster paid off. This was something that had been floating around for awhile. I wanted to see something about cults (before _Shooting Stars _was on television) and decided to write something with one in it. Fear and the human mind has been something I have always found interesting. Studied it a little in college along with Greek/Roman classics. Just kind of came together.

And also, I am asking for a little help with my next story. I don't have anything major to run with so I am asking all of you what you would like to see. Is there a story line you wish to see written? Is there something you would like me to try out? Hell, a sequel to this (though, might take longer)? I am open to any ideas. The only rules are that it must remain some what in cannon with the show, so no complete AU's, crossovers, or Mary sues. Somehow Nick and Warrick must be either the central or highly involved characters. And for those who do enjoy slash, I have nothing against it. So, let me know what you think either in a review, an email, or one of those new PM's.

Thanks again for all the support. I hope to see you all with something new once I get back from vacation. I have lots of lay-over time between flights so I should be able to get a lot done. Until next time! Bye!

Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy New Year!

_(Greek word for "ending")_


End file.
